Old Sins Have Long Shadows
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Sara and Grissom-together as they should be. A crime, a mystery, two characters from the past show up looking for Sara and Grissom. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Here's a new story with Sara and Grissom at its center. Enjoy! _

**Old Sins have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 1**

At first glance, the broad expanse of open space appeared to be the left-over remnants of a rummage-sale, or at least a patched together flea market. Yet there was more order at second glance. Bright blue tarps lay at regularly spaced intervals, a few feet separating each one. On each blue square were stacks of paper, clothing, shoes, take-out food boxes, plastic bags and the assorted debris most often associated with trash; several suitcases, pieces of wood, coolers, and empty boxes were scattered around the floor. Camping gear and an assortment of odd tools added to the peculiar collection.

A white van, doors open, was parked in the middle of the massive floor—except for the tarps, everything on the floor had been removed from the van. Two people, dressed in blue jumpsuits, worked at two different places in the building; both women, wearing jackets and gloves, concentrated on their work. Another woman, older than the others, had paced the length of the building before she stopped beside the van.

Slowly, Sara Sidle leaned her backside against the front fender, sliding along until her back rested against the tire of the 2007 Ford van, removing a glove as her butt touched the floor. A long sigh escaped as her eyes moved from left to right taking in only half of what was spread along the floor.

A steaming cup held by familiar fingers appeared in front of her face.

"Thanks."

"D.B. said I should relieve you—send you home." Easily, Greg folded his legs to sit beside her. He said, "What else have you found?"

Sara took a swallow of hot tea before answering. "Have you seen Hodges?"

Greg nodded. "Everyone is talking about this one. D.B. heard from Texas; two—a couple from Austin—were found ten months ago and the one from Arizona. Counting the one found here, that leaves DNA for three."

"We've found receipts from as far away as Florida." Sara sighed. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

A rumble came from Greg's throat. "But you keep doing it," he murmured.

She pushed her elbow against his arm and grinned. "So do you."

"And now you're teaching the newbies," he said, a finger pointing toward the two young women.

Sara made a soft chuckle before saying, "Amazing how the years have flown, isn't it?"

"What was our first multiple? Do you remember?"

Placing her cup beside her foot, Sara ran fingers through her hair as she thought. "The Collins family—everyone dead but the two girls."

"Wow! That does go back a few years," Greg said with a soft laugh. "I was so new I don't think I got to touch anything."

"I got to hold the little girl's hand."

Soft quick chuckles came from the two friends; they sat in comfortable silence until interrupted by one of the young women calling Sara's name. Greg stood and extended his hand to Sara, pulling her to her feet.

"Your supervision is needed," Greg whispered. "Introduce me!"

Sara smiled. "Hannah, meet Greg—Greg, Hannah." Waving to the second young woman, she said, "Emily! Come over and meet Greg."

Hannah, the young woman who had called Sara's name, flashed a quick smile. Even with her auburn hair pulled back into a bun, with most of her body covered with a blue coverall several sizes too large, the girl's natural beauty was apparent.

Greg smiled and extended his hand. A pair of flashing green eyes sparkled as Hannah removed her glove and shook his hand.

"And this is Emily," Sara said.

Later, Sara would giggle and tease him without mercy but at the moment she managed to suppress a laugh as Emily walked up.

"Greg! I met you several years ago!" The dark haired woman grabbed his hand, and unexpectedly, pulled him closer—almost into a quick hug. "Stanford!" She pointed to herself and then to Greg. "You were a guest lecturer—Chem Club—three years ago!"

No words came from Greg's mouth, even though his lips moved for a few seconds. He had no memory of the girl sitting in a lecture room that held a hundred students, yet she was familiar in a way that made him feel an instant attraction. In a moment, as she talked and laughed, he understood—Emily was a young Sara Sidle. The girl's appearance—tall and slim, dark hair and eyes, using hands to emphasize her words—was so similar to Sara's that he felt an instant attraction. Even her manner of speech was familiar—a light up-lift of her voice at the end of her sentences.

They were talking about receipts; quickly, Greg joined in, asking several questions, requesting explanations. The group walked around tarps to several tables against a wall.

With a slight boast Emily said, "Sara's the best—she's the one who broke this open, you know!"

Sara laughed quietly, "Team effort, Emily."

Hannah joined, agreeing with Emily. "If Sara hadn't come up with removing all that stuff in layers—if she had not gathered the receipts—insisted that we go through the van—no one would have ever known about those other people!" She smiled broadly, saying, "And we would not be working a serial killer case!"

Greg listened as the younger women described their findings—he already knew most of it but enjoyed hearing their version of events.

Everyone knew about the case—it had been news for days. A female body, bound and gagged, had been found near a local campground; she was a missing college student from New Mexico. When deputies arrived, several people who had been in the campground for two weeks reported a lone man in an old white van. Suspicious acting, they reported, because he rejected any approaches from fellow campers.

Within hours, the van was located; the owner inside a casino on the outskirts of Vegas. In the pockets of his jacket were two credit cards belonging to the dead girl. Easy, open and shut case—until someone looked inside the van. That someone had been Sara Sidle and her supervisor gave his approval for the two young CSIs to assist her in clearing the van.

It had been Sara's suggestion to remove everything from the van in layers—everyone admitted they would have used a shovel—but she and the two young women crawled into the van on hands and knees and soon found, layer after layer, a cross-country journey. Among the detritus were two pairs of women's underwear, bits of tape and plastic, several credit cards that did not belong to the van's owner—the first DNA hit came from the underwear.

A Texas couple had been found near a campground along the Sabine River, missing for three weeks; they were bound, gagged, and wrapped in plastic. Her DNA was matched with that found in the van. For ten months, the case had been cold. Almost as quickly, another young woman from Arizona had been matched with DNA from a second pair of panties.

The unexpected findings and the attempt to identify at least three other with DNA kept the three women working with the contents of the van. The latest find was another campground receipt—not a real receipt but a place marker for a camp site—with a fifteen month old date stamp.

"Mississippi," Hannah said as she squinted at the faded slip of paper pulled from a ragged sleeping bag. "Where is Rocky Springs?"

As quickly as she had the words out of her mouth, Emily was tapping a keyboard with results in seconds. "Campground along the Natchez Trace—primitive, no electricity." She gave a cryptic laugh, saying, "It's a national park highway—or something like that." She hit the print key.

After another fifteen minutes, Greg managed to push Sara out the door. "Go home," he said, "You haven't slept more than four-five hours at a time all week!"

"Call me."

He assured her he would. "Nothing will happen unless you are here!" His finger crossed his chest. "These two can leave later—I'll lock up and whatever is here will be waiting for you—promise!"

_A/N: This one will have two characters from the past returning-soon! And, of course, we appreciate your reviews and comments. Chapter 2 soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you for reading! And now Grissom! Along with a surprise return! _

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 2 **

Gil Grissom arrived at his last seminar of the day with a sigh of satisfaction; he was particularly proud of this group of students. He had taught all eleven graduate students as undergraduates and each one excelled in their chosen subject—entomology was a small part of their studies—but they were enthusiastic. He easily admitted he enjoyed this class.

The students had already moved tables together—deciding weeks ago that the formal lecture room detracted rather than enhanced their discussions. Grissom took his chair at the tables, two students on his left, three to his right, and six of them seated across the table. He could keep their discussions going for hours with his research knowledge and his personal experiences, but today, the students would talk about their own projects. Four projects—all at Mount Charleston—assigned in the first week of the semester and now moving into the last few weeks of the term would, or should, be drawing to a coherent conclusion.

He knew two of the projects would be excellent, the beginning of studies that could easily take the students into doctoral level research if they desired. The other projects—work had been done as required, but the students involved were heading in other directions and insect activity was only a quick diversion required for their degrees.

Keeping his arm positioned so he could keep track of time with his watch, Grissom talked for several minutes before calling on the first group—the weakest researchers, but excellent students—to present their progress. And so it went from one group to the next until all were satisfied their work met Grissom's critical standards. A few more words of encouragement and support to those who needed it and his students were gone.

Stacking books and papers into his bag, Gil Grissom looked up as a group of noisy students entered the lecture room. Thankful for a small class and graduate students who were as excited about zoology, if not entomology, as he was, he straightened a few chairs and watched as students crowded into the auditorium-style rows of desks. He glanced around once more and headed for the doorway that led to his office, missing most of the incoming students.

In doing so, he missed two people; a young blonde woman with brilliant blue eyes set in an expressive pale face, and her friend, a young man of passable good looks but with a persistent frown that caused most people to avert their eyes. They were not coming for class but were searching for Dr. Gil Grissom, currently entomology professor and researcher, and formerly of the LVPD crime lab.

In his office, he hurriedly grabbed several envelopes, stuffed them into the bag, and left for the day. Before his class, a short text message of "I'll be home sooner rather than later" hurried his steps and, instead of hanging around talking with his students or other professors, he was out of the classroom, to the parking lot, and driving away from campus as fast as any student with a time clock to punch at the nearby shopping center.

He left the shaded campus of the university, taking the back streets to his address—streets rarely seen by hordes of tourists that visited Las Vegas. Sara had been the one to find the house and convinced him they wanted it rather than the condo they had shared for several years. He smiled as he remembered her sweet strategy—she had planned carefully and won him over. And now he thought he loved their home more than she did; he chuckled, perhaps as much as she did, he thought.

Arriving home, seeing Sara's car was already there, caused an excitement that many married men had forgotten after a few years of marriage. Grissom readily admitted to a deep love for his wife and he considered time spent with her as the happiest moments of his life. He immediately regretted not stopping for flowers—or at least a favorite dessert—because Sara had been working furiously for a week, grabbing a few hours of sleep before returning to the lab.

His excitement faded a notch when he opened the front door. His nose picked up the fragrance of sweet tomatoes and onions but his eyes landed on a rolling suitcase and a backpack, both unknown to him. Another bag, the kind a lot of women—not Sara—carried, had been tossed on the sofa. Then he heard Sara's voice, softly, speaking to someone who was in the kitchen with her.

"Hey! I'm home!" he called as he kept walking through the living room.

"We're here," Sara replied.

The unknown "we" was out of his sight until he stepped into the kitchen. Just for a moment, Grissom was startled, looking at the two women. Sara, always beautiful, giving off a vitality that life was good, was stirring a pan of tomato sauce. Brilliantly smiling, her head slightly tilted, he knew their visitor was as much a surprise to her as to him.

The younger woman—still considered a young girl in his mind—gave him a stunning smile as she headed toward him with arms outstretched.

"Gil!"

Lindsey Willows, taller than her mother but with similar blonde hair sweeping below her shoulders, did not lack confidence with her self-assured demeanor. He knew her well—he had followed Lindsey's life from a few hours after her birth as she grew up—and attempted to remember what was happening right now—and why she was standing in his kitchen with bags in the living room.

He returned her greeting, "Lindsey! When was the last time?" Somewhat awkwardly, he gave her a brief embrace before he stepped around to Sara and hugged her; his arm remained around Sara as he asked, "When did you get here?" He really wanted to ask 'What are you doing here?' but refrained from doing so.

Planting her hands on slender hips clothed in expensive jeans, Lindsey let out an audible puff of air before saying, "I was just telling Sara—of course, it's all about my mother!" One hand lifted in a wide gesture. "I flew in today as a surprise because my grandmother is on a cruise—and, well, I thought I'd surprise Mom. But, of course," the young woman's voice rose as she stressed her words, "Mom isn't here—she flew to some beach resort in Mexico yesterday—with a new boyfriend!"

Lindsey's hand went back to her hip as she tossed her hair in a gesture Grissom had watched Catherine Willow's do for years. She continued, "Then, I get to the house and guess who has changed the code on the locks?" Her eyes stretched wide. "And all I get is her cell phone going to 'no service' tone! It's a good thing the cab driver waited—'cause I could not get inside the house!"

Both arms spread, palms upward, as she sighed, "I thought of you, Gil—and Sara! I was sure Sara would be around—and I knew you were at the university now." She laughed easily, indicated Sara, and said, "If she had not been here, I would have headed to the lab."

Sara felt her husband's hand gently moving along her spine; her shoulders relaxed for the first time in hours. She had not been home more than fifteen minutes when the doorbell rang and she had found Lindsey Willows standing at the door. She listened to Lindsey's story as she started dinner—all hopes of a quiet evening at home vanished and, as Lindsey had talked, Sara had the feeling there was more to the story than a surprise visit to her mother.

Grissom's hand moved to Sara's neck, his fingers applied gentle pressure. He said, "Show Lindsey to our guest room, dear. I'll finish this—and work on a salad—or something." His phone chimed. "And answer the phone."

_A/N: With Grissom at home and Lindsey's arrival-what next? More to come...soon! Thank you for reading, and especially to those who review-you give us encouragement even when none comes from CSI Season 14!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Celebrate your weekend with a new chapter! Thank you for reading!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 3 **

Sara could count on one hand—no, three fingers—the people who had stayed in their guest room. The house, a split design, had three small bedrooms along a hallway; two bedrooms had been turned into an office and a library. The third, and smallest, was the guest room which she kept ready in case her mother or Gil's mother needed it.

She opened the door. "Twin beds—take your pick—and the bathroom is here," she indicated a door to the left. "Gil and I are on the opposite side of the house. So," she shrugged, "you will have this side of the house to yourself. Is there anything you need?"

Lindsey tossed her bag and backpack on one bed before lifting her suitcase. "Sara—I—I really appreciate this. I—ugh—I don't—my mother," she shrugged her shoulders. "I read online about the serial killer you were working on." She sat on the other bed, saying "It sounds—intriguing."

Sighing, Sara managed a smile that belied her exhaustion. "Intriguing is a good description—this one is a thousand pieces of a puzzle—with missing pieces."

Lindsey raked hands through her hair, sliding a hair band from her wrist as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "My mom would come home talking about all the gross stuff she did—all the young girls who were dead—like it would happen to me if I didn't behave." The sound Lindsey made came as a sad laugh to Sara's ears. She continued, "Do you remember the time she took me to the morgue? I thought it was a joke—like it was pretend or something."

Sara faintly remembered someone mentioning Catherine had taken her young daughter to the morgue. "Lindsey, she worried about you. She saw the worse things that can happen to people—and so many parents. I know she'll be sad she missed your visit."

Lindsey turned to the window and fiddled with the blinds. Her shoulders sagged as she sighed. "I—I don't know why I came. She's always traveling—work or pleasure—she is seldom home." She turned back to face Sara. "You know my grandfather left us a lot—a lot of money, right?"

Sara nodded. She did not know specifics, but everyone in the lab knew Sam Braun had made Catherine a very wealthy woman.

Suddenly, Lindsey's eyes glittered with tears. "I'm here to stay—I've left college—Mom doesn't know—she—she—I know she'll be angry."

Sara, realizing the truth of this unexpected visit was about to surface, held up a hand hoping to stop tears as well as Lindsey's story. Again, she smiled as she said, "Let's eat dinner, Lindsey. Whatever is going on will wait until after we eat. Why—why don't you get settled and wash up—dinner is almost ready."

Lindsey, tears blinked away, nodded.

Thinking the self-assured young woman had disappeared, Sara was surprised at how quickly the confident look returned with a toss of the pony tail and a flash of a smile.

Leaving Lindsey to unpack, Sara found Grissom in the kitchen smearing butter on bread.

"Almost ready," he said as he pushed the pan of bread into a hot oven. "So—how are you, dear wife?" His hands free, he took Sara in his arms and tightly hugged her. "I'm sure there is a story with our visitor."

"There is—we'll find out after dinner—maybe."

He kissed her, quickly on her nose and then her lips. "How was work?"

"Still going—I'll tell you later."

Checking to see if their visitor was around, he said, "I just had an interesting phone conversation—or rather an interesting message."

Sara lifted her eyebrows.

"After I left campus, I had two visitors who would like to meet with me tomorrow—and one of them asked about you."

Again, eyebrows lifted. Her forehead creased with a frown.

"Did not leave a name, young, blonde, blue eyes with a male friend."

Sara's entire face showed bewilderment. "College students?"

"Donna thought they were, but the girl said she had met both of us a long time ago."

Grissom's eyes shifted to the kitchen doorway. "Lindsey! Just in time—the bread is hot. We'll plate up and eat." He pointed to a cabinet near Lindsey. "If you will, get salad bowls and plates."

In a flurry of activity, pasta was mixed with the sauce and plated, a mixed-greens salad and bread was placed on the table; Sara filled glasses with water and Grissom added fruit juice and salad dressing to the table.

As they ate, with a few questions, Lindsey gave an amusing description of her early college years—moving east to a small college, where she felt totally out-of-place, before going to Europe for a year. She entertained with stories of her travels and all three talked about Paris and food, leaving the subject of her current situation aside.

Afterwards, the task of cleaning up went quickly as Lindsey asked questions about the Grissom's lives and talked about her mother and grandmother. Finally, in the living room, Grissom managed to turn the conversation from recent events in Las Vegas to Lindsey's arrival.

She had briefly mentioned the university she was attending, one of northern California's private colleges, but had said nothing more.

"Tell us about northern California," Grissom said. "How do you like—is it Redlands? What's your major?"

Lindsey managed an eye roll that would compete with Judge Judy on a bad case. "Have you talked to my mother lately?"

When Sara and Grissom shook heads, Lindsey did another eye roll, fidgeted for a long moment, finally bringing her hands together as she leaned forward. "I transferred there last year and I really liked it—really I did. Decided to major in music—music management—Mom kept saying I needed to settle into something so I picked music." She shook her head. "I don't know why—I think I had some idea of—of managing a rock star or something! And then, this week, I walked to class and realized I didn't care one thing about music management or anything to do with music other than listen to it!"

Sara made an agreeing sound. Grissom shifted, swinging his arm across Sara's shoulders. Mildly, he grunted and made a motion with his hand for Lindsey to continue.

She made a face so nearly like her mother that Grissom had to smile.

"You know how Mom is—she wants me to get a degree." She made a disparaging sound before continuing, "Something useful—not art or music—which is probably why I chose both of those majors!" Her hands pressed together, "and now—now neither one of those have worked out. Four years—and I have no degree—not even close to a degree."

A flood of emotions crossed Lindsey's face; she made no attempt to hide her tears as she said, "I'm a total failure—a drop-out—who can't even finish a degree—and my mom is going to absolutely freak out. She wants a college graduate—a daughter who isn't a liability!" Her voice mocked her mother's, "Grow up, Lindsey! You need to be responsible for something—I'm not going to support you forever—every time we talk that's her message!"

Sara caught Grissom's eye as Lindsey dissolved into full-blown crying. Swiftly, she reached for a box of tissues, gathered several, and pushed them into Lindsey's hand as she moved to sit beside the young woman.

"Gil, would you get a glass of water," Sara asked, giving him a nod to take a few minutes. Turning to Lindsey, she placed a hand on Lindsey's shoulder, saying, "This will not be the first time your mom has freaked out, I'm sure of it. And it's not the end of your life—and your mom is right. You should get a degree—maybe—maybe you haven't found the right subject."

Lindsey sniffed and mumbled and in a few minutes she was rebounding when Grissom handed her a glass.

"Okay," he said as he sat across from the two women. "Better?"

A few more tissues and Lindsey seemed to recover from her distress and quickly changed the subject. She asked about Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders and Sara filled her in about the two men.

"What about Captain Brass? Has he retired?"

Grissom and Sara laughed before Sara said, "No, not retired. I don't think he ever will."

"Mom told me about his daughter—that's so sad."

Their conversation turned to happier memories of parties and gatherings of the people Lindsey had grown up knowing. Grissom was amazed that Lindsey could remember events that happened when she was very young.

Sara left Grissom and Lindsey talking about Warrick Brown. In the kitchen she melted chocolate and prepared a bowl of strawberries and sliced bananas. As she placed bowls and plates on the table, she caught the name "Eddie" from Grissom and knew they were talking about Lindsey's father.

"Dessert is served," Sara announced.

Once again, conversation became light-hearted as Grissom described various beneficial insects for strawberries.

When Lindsey made a face, Sara said, "No worry—I washed them!"

Grissom dipped a strawberry into the chocolate just as Sara popped one in her mouth.

Lindsey caught a drip of chocolate with the tip of her finger, poised a red berry mid-way to her mouth, and asked, "Gil, are you my father?"

Sara choked but swiftly recovered.

Grissom dropped a strawberry into the bowl of chocolate and brought his hand to his mouth. Slowly, his finger raked across his lip as if he were wiping away an invisible crumb. Quickly, his eyes flicked to Sara before meeting Lindsey's intent stare.

_A/N: Thank you for reading...now, take a few seconds to leave us a comment! Thanks! More to come!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: And now your answer! (You already knew the answer!) Moving on! Thank you for reading!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 4**

For a long moment, no one said anything.

Grissom cleared his throat, "No, Lindsey, I'm not your father."

Lindsey shrugged. "I thought I'd ask—you know I remember you being around more than my dad—who was mostly absent until he wanted something. You came to birthday parties and always brought me gifts." She grinned. "You gave me a nice check when I was sixteen. You were always around and Mom was always talking about you."

With a hesitant grin, Grissom said, "Your mother and I worked together every day, Lindsey. We were always good friends, but only friends." Softly laughing, he said, "Many times she had my back and sometime I had hers."

Lindsey speared the dropped strawberry and held it out to Grissom. "I think it would make my life easier if you were my dad—then I'd have someone other than Mom!" She laughed as Grissom took the chocolate covered strawberry and popped it into his mouth. "My mother can be so—so—such a tyrant at times! She just does not understand things."

"Now, Lindsey, she's not so bad," Grissom said. Placing his fork on his plate, his fingers came together. "Tell us what we can do—other than a bed tonight—and for tomorrow night."

Slowing chewing before speaking, Lindsey said, "I don't know what to do."

"Did you officially withdraw from your classes?"

She shook her, "No, I just left—I wanted to get home."

Grissom sat back, thinking. Lindsey dipped a slice of banana and a strawberry into the chocolate sauce.

Sara had watched and listened as Lindsey talked; suddenly, she knew there was something else—she said, "Do you have a boyfriend, Lindsey?"

With a quick change of expression, eyebrows went up, came down, and Lindsey looked at Sara with surprise.

"Is he here in Vegas?" asked Sara.

Lindsey nodded.

Grissom's face pulled into a grimace which quickly disappeared when Sara's somber eyes met his.

"Does he know you are here?" Sara asked softly.

Lindsey's hands raked through her hair, removing the band holding her ponytail, shaking her hair, and then doing the same motions in reverse. "He doesn't know—I was hoping to talk to Mom, first. She—she doesn't like him. I mean—she's okay—she doesn't dislike him but she won't even talk about—us."

Neither Sara nor Grissom said anything and a minute later, Lindsey continued. "We want to get married! We've talked about it forever but my mother won't even listen!" Lindsey pushed away from the table, got up and paced for several minutes.

Surprised at this announcement, Sara's mouth dropped open; she heard her husband's quiet chuckle and noticed his grin was hidden behind his hand. She shot him another look attempting to dissipate his humor.

Sara reached out, gesturing for Lindsey to return to her chair. When the girl slumped into the chair, Sara patted her arm. "Why don't you get some sleep? Let your boyfriend—what's his name—know you are here. Gil and I would like to meet him."

"You would! You would like to meet him!" Lindsey brightened and flashed a smile. "He's really very nice—Sean—Sean Oliver. We were in high school together—he's a year older, graduated last year from UNLV, and he has a good job." Her hands covered her face as she said, "Last year when I mentioned to Mom we might want to get married, she totally—totally—freaked out! Told me never to see him again—which hasn't happened—said I had to get a degree and be on my own and Sean was just hanging around until I'm twenty-five and get money from my grandfather!"

Grissom stood, saying, "Lindsey—get some sleep. We'll work something out—I'm sure your mother won't be unreasonable. But I'd suggest you go back and finish the semester—don't withdraw and lose the hours." Stretching with a yawn, he picked up the nearly empty bowl and platter and headed to the kitchen. "Invite your guy over for dinner tomorrow—if he's working, he'll enjoy a home-cooked meal." As he disappeared into the kitchen, he added, "Vegetarian!"

Sara made sure Lindsey was tucked into the guest room with everything she needed, got assurance their visitor would be able to sleep and gave a promise of breakfast when she woke.

At the door of their shared bathroom, Sara watched as her husband stepped out of the shower. Handing him a towel, she said, "This may turn out to be a not-so-good thing we're getting involved in."

As he wrapped the towel around his body, Grissom leaned over and kissed her so thoroughly that, for a few minutes, she forgot the problems brought in by their house guest, and when he pulled her hard against his chest, dampness from his body quickly penetrating her clothes, she could hardly think at all. When he eased away from her, it was to ask a question.

"Is she pregnant?"

Sara shook her head, saying "I don't think so—sounds like this boyfriend isn't new and," Sara laughed softly, "she told us everything else so why leave out 'I'm pregnant and want to get married'?"

For several minutes, they stood entwined, comfortable in their private intimacy; Grissom's warm, soothing breath against Sara's neck gave her a calmness she had not felt in hours. She made a small sigh, pushed her hip against his, and took a step back.

"Let me shower—I took a fast one at the lab, but I really want a long one before getting into bed."

"Get in—enjoy. I'll read and wait up."

His hands circled her shoulders. The weight of his palms felt solid as his strong fingers kneaded the tired muscles with rhythmic strokes. Sara reached to cup his face between her hands and gently kissed him on the lips.

A few seconds later, as a cascade of hot water showered her body, Sara thought back over her day—the tragedy and heartbreak of the lives lost and families shattered by a single mad-man and the unhappiness of a single young woman because of—she laughed as she tried to place Lindsey's personal distress on a scale. She laughed again—in a few years, Lindsey would not remember this night of misery. Stepping out of the shower, she toweled her hair, dried her body, quickly pulled her hair into a ponytail, and slipped a clean shirt over her head.

Her underwear drawer was filled with brightly colored panties, but she chose a pair of soft plaid boxers from Grissom's drawer. He already knew his underwear was seeing double duty and he would laugh; she rolled and tucked the waist band to fit her body and reached for an expensive perfume bottle.

As soon as she entered the bedroom, Grissom closed his book and patted the bed. "Crawl in, dear, I know you are exhausted."

Sara not only crawled into the bed, but scooted across until she was sharing Grissom's pillow. Grissom's arms surrounded her, slowly, deliberately, as their lips met. She let herself sink into his embrace, snuggling against him, as his fingers began an unhurried massage down her back. In a few minutes, his hands gently shifted to ease her onto her back.

"Mmmm—I believe those are my boxers," Grissom murmured between kisses placed on Sara's shoulders, her neck and brushing a sensitive spot below her left ear. "And you smell wonderful," he whispered as his lips nipped her ear.

Quietly, she chuckled as she reached her arms over her head and stretched contentedly. "I thought we would get to bed early tonight."

Grissom pulled away so he could meet Sara's eyes. "You did not appear surprised or shocked with Lindsey's question."

With a giggle, Sara said, "About you being her father? I knew that wasn't true—but I can understand why she would ask."

"You can?"

Sara brought her hand to Grissom's face, gently tracing her fingertips across his forehead. "She knows you would be so much better than Eddie."

He sighed. "Can you sleep? You need your rest."

Another quiet laugh, and Sara said, "My plan was to have long, leisurely sex tonight until I screamed with ecstasy and went into a sexually exhausted coma for hours—until our visitor arrived." She wiggled her hips as his hand slid across her abdomen. "Now, I'll have to settle for a quiet snuggle under the covers," she giggled as his fingers found the snap on the boxers fly.

"You should be asleep," he said as he moved his hand to her backside and pressed her firmly against him.

"I'll sleep better if you keep this up." Her arms came down and circled his neck. She kissed, explored, and stroked until her desire became a driving need and as his hand gently slipped into the warmth between her legs, she had time to gasp before his lips met hers.

When her husband entered her, knowing her desire matched his, he repeatedly invoked her name, softly and tenderly saying "Sara" in whispered breaths as he rose over her.

Sara, feeling her orgasm building, luxuriated in the piercing feel of her husband as he urged her to take the lead; pleasure surged through her body and a few moments later, she was vaguely aware of Grissom's climax as he deeply buried himself within her. She continued in the fading throes of her own climax as Grissom's mouth covered hers and he collapsed over her.

In an after-sex haze, Grissom covered both of them with the bed sheet and blanket. "Do you think you can sleep?"

All he heard was a pleasing, agreeing hum against his chest.

Reaching over Sara's shoulder, he pulled several disposable damp towels from a box on the bedside table. "What did we do before these were invented?" Using one to brush her hair away from her face, he said with a soft chuckle, "I wish I had invented the warmer!"

With a giggle, Sara said, "One of us had to get out of bed and now I don't even have to move."

As he gently cleaned her legs and backside, he asked, "Have you decided what you're going to do?"

Without lifting her head out of the pillow, she mumbled, "We've talked about this."

"And?" In a smooth motion, he rolled her over and continued stroking her body with a warm towelette, keeping both covered as he thoroughly tended to his task. Finally, his hand cupped her butt as he stretched beside her; moving his hand to her thigh, he pulled her leg over his and nestled into her arms.

"This is going to be my last one," Sara whispered as she opened her eyes to gaze into his. "I want to get this one wrapped up—I think it will take us several weeks to get everything sorted out—and by then—well, everyone will know."

Grissom smiled. "Yes, you're right—in a few weeks everyone will know." He kissed each of her eyebrows and when she closed her eyes, he kissed her eyelids. "You need to sleep." Playfully, he moved his hand along her hip, his finger grazed across her pubic bone as his palm flattened and fingers stretched from her iliac crest across her abdomen to the opposite spot. Softly he stroked her skin causing a smile to drift and lift the corners of Sara's mouth. "Amazing," he whispered.

_A/N: And more to come! Thank you for reading and we enjoy your comments and reviews! _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Enjoy!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 5**

Lindsey was in the kitchen twenty minutes after Sara poured a cup of coffee. Grissom was eating cereal, thinking about the conversation the night before—Lindsey's, not Sara's.

Grissom thought to himself, he could deal with Catherine; he had always been able to deal with her. On occasion she exasperated him yet at the same time, he had always had a connection to the woman he had worked with for years. They had shared so many experiences—her daughter had been on the periphery yet Lindsey seemed to recall a much closer relationship. Now that he was working at the university, surrounded by young adults every day, he was more familiar with their behaviors than he had ever been—and Lindsey had shown what he considered to be typical of too many college age students.

So when Lindsey came into the room, Grissom asked if she had slept well and handed her a cup for coffee.

With a nod, Lindsey poured coffee and said with a sigh, "I know you think I'm childish about all of this, but still…"

Sara interrupted, appearing from the kitchen with juice, asking, "Would you like cereal—several kinds—or yogurt, bagel, toast? All of the above?" She nodded to a bowl of bananas. "And bananas again—we ate all the strawberries."

It took several minutes for Lindsey and Sara to decide what to eat—bowls of cereal with yogurt—and to join Grissom at the table.

"Sean will be thrilled to come for dinner," Lindsey said with excitement in her voice. "And he says he'll love vegetarian."

"Where does he work?" Sara asked.

"Oh, north Vegas—he's an engineer with…" she named a company Sara only knew because of the huge building she had seen for years. "He works with life support systems—like environment complicated stuff."

Grissom said, "It sounds like he has a good job."

Nodding, Lindsay said, "He's always been brilliant—solves math problems in his head—and he is making good money. That's one reason we wanted to get married after he graduated!" She waved her spoon, saying "Mom just will not listen! I can go to UNLV even after I'm married—she thinks we'll end up like she and my dad did—hating each other!"

"Your mother didn't hate your father, Lindsey. She did not like some of the things he did," said Grissom.

"They got divorced!"

Nodding his head in agreement, Grissom said, "Sometimes people find they can't live with someone who makes poor choices—but I promise you, I always believed your mother loved your dad."

Lindsey dropped her head over her cereal bowl. "Well, she doesn't believe in love now!"

Sara bit her lip and managed to hide her grin, but Grissom openly laughed out loud. "Lindsey, if I promise to speak to your mother, will you promise to return to college and finish the semester?"

"You will? You will!" Lindsey's head lifted; an obvious look of happiness spread across her face. "I will love you forever! I'll—I'll name my first baby after you!"

Grissom wagged his fingers in a negative gesture. "I can't promise anything but maybe you two can compromise—you finish your degree and then get married."

The young woman made a face, and Sara said, "Lindsey, if you could get a degree in anything, what would it be? There must have something you'd like to do…"

"You know what I want to do—be a teacher. Of little kids, kindergarten—nothing fancy, not save the world, or manage some jerk of a musician—just teach little kids."

"Why haven't you majored in elementary education?"

A sly grin appeared, "How do you go to Europe for a year with an elementary ed major? Art majors always have a semester abroad—so I went for a year! Then music—well, I can't remember why I chose that one!"

Sara's eyes rolled skyward; few people, she thought, had the luxury of living the life of Lindsey Willows.

Grissom said, "I'll talk with your mother when she gets back. For today, I'll leave you my car—Sara can drop me at the university." He fished a hand into his pocket and passed a key fob across the table. "Send me a message with time you and Sean want to eat—pizza or Boca burgers or tacos. We can fix a pretty darn delicious vegetarian meal."

Lindsey's smile remained on her face, "Seven—seven would be great. You two are awesome—I don't really have any plans for the day."

With a smile, Grissom said, "Good. You can drive over to the university and talk to—to someone in the elementary education department and see what you have to do to be admitted. It will be easier to convince your mother to change her mind if you have everything lined up."

"Can I meet you for lunch?"

"Certainly—around one," he grinned, his voice became a whisper, "we'll get a real cheeseburger!"

Sara dropped Grissom near the front of his building with the promise, "I'll pick you up by four—promise."

He kissed her, "Love you, honey." He wiggled his eyebrows saying, "We'll get to meet Sean tonight—can't wait!"

Laughing, Sara drove toward the lab.

As he entered the building, Grissom glanced at students milling around the door. He had not forgotten the two young people who had been looking for him the day before and wasn't surprised to learn from the department secretary that the girl had asked for his schedule. He had an open hour at nine o'clock and another at eleven; if they really were looking for him, hopefully they would show up at nine.

An hour passed; he drank coffee with two professors, checked email, straightened up his office by moving books out of two chairs, and no one approached his office.

His class of biology majors met and passed uneventfully; returning to his office, there was no one waiting for him so he pulled a box of insect specimens out of a drawer and worked on preparing microscope slides.

It was nearly noon—he had not heard from Lindsey—when a light knock on his open door caused him to lift his head from his microscope. He could not place either of the two faces.

"Dr. Grissom?" asked the girl.

The description by the department secretary was enough for Grissom to know his unknown visitors had returned.

"Yes," he answered, stepping forward with his hand extended.

The girl had blonde hair that did not come from a bottle—Grissom was not sure why that was his first thought—and huge blue eyes that completely mesmerized; he barely noticed the boy standing behind her. Quickly, his brain attempted to process any recognizable features of the girl and attach her to a name.

The girl's hand met his; her face became radiant with an incredible smile and wide crystal-blue eyes. "I'm Brianna Bailey—you probably won't remember me—it was a very long time ago. You—you might remember me as Brenda Collins."

The name punched into Grissom's brain with such force that his entire body was affected; he made a surprised rumbling sound. He touched the desk in an effort to stabilize his mind and his eyes blinked several times before his voice recovered. He would never forget the small child who stared at him with uncomprehending eyes as blue as a robin's egg, so delicate in appearance that he had thought of her as fragile glass on the edge of shattering.

"Brenda Collins, yes, I remember." He whispered, again, "Brenda Collins."

A/N_: And the second person from the past shows up! Thanks for reading! _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: What does Brenda Collins want? Enjoy!_

**Old Sins have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 6**

The brilliant smile on the girl's face, her sudden appearance as an adult almost overwhelmed Grissom's capacity to think. Brenda Collins had been a small child; the survivor of a horrendous act of violence by the person everyone thought was Brenda's sister.

He managed to say, "It's been how long? Come in—come in." He indicated three chairs near his desk. "I'm sorry—I would not have recognized you."

The girl laughed, a simple musical sound of self-confidence and poise that Grissom recognized as one of happiness. "It's been fifteen years, Dr. Grissom! I did not expect you to know me—but hoped you might remember my name—my old name."

"Yes, yes, I do." He remembered she had spoken only one word to anyone—to him—that long-ago night. He smiled as a sudden memory of Sara resurfaced; he had given Sara the job of staying with the little girl.

"This is my friend, Adam Spencer."

The young man was almost succeeding at covering up his nervousness, Grissom thought.

After the two shook hands, Grissom asked if they would like water or another beverage from a small refrigerator; both declined and everyone moved to chairs as Grissom rolled his desk chair to join them.

Brianna was the first to speak. "I looked you up because of Adam, Dr. Grissom." She gave him the dazzling smile again. "After everything happened—after the night I met you and Sara," the smile reappeared. "I always think of her as Sara and remember how sweet she was to me—how safe I felt—she held my hand all night and, it's weird how the mind works, isn't it? But she's the one I remembered until I was old enough to read the case and everything that happened. I thought of her as a guardian angel."

"I know it had to be difficult for you—you were so young," Grissom said.

The young woman smiled again, displaying an easy confidence. "That's where you are wrong—it—it wasn't difficult for me—my life has been good—it's been great! I see and hear all the sadness—all the bad things happening in the world—and that's not about me, Dr. Grissom! I know it was a horrible tragedy, but—what happened back then—well, it happened and I realize I can't change it, but I don't live with it."

Grissom glanced at the young man who made an agreeable sound and let a smile cross his face.

Brianna continued, "My great aunt—my grandmother's sister—came from Oklahoma and took me home with her for two years—she was who I needed. Then she retired, and we returned here to live with my grandmother." She smiled again. "They have always been my rock and my rescuer—and from the time I was old enough to read and understand, they never tried to hide what happened. I don't remember much of my life before living with them—it's like my memory starts with that night and my life is what happened after—not before."

Grissom's eyes could not leave the young girl's face; she radiated an energy and love of life. He caught himself before he said _"Joie de vivre"_ aloud.

Her eyes widened as she continued, "When I was fourteen, my aunt explained what had happened—I mean the details, how Tina was my mother—she had a copy of the police report with everything in it and I read it—so I know—that's where I learned your name." Again, she gave her easy smile. "And that's why we wanted to find you."

"I—we—we were doing our job, Bren—Brianna." He was struggling, trying to remember what had happened after it was all over—to the teenager daughter who had killed her parents and brothers.

The young woman laughed again and Grissom thought again of music.

"Dr. Grissom, I want you to help Adam!"

He was thoroughly confused; "Help Adam?"

She nodded and reached for her bag. "You know what happened to me—and I know what happened, but Adam needs to know what happened to his parents." She pulled a bright yellow file out of the bag. "It's all here—except he doesn't think it happened like this—do you, Adam?"

"No, sir."

Perplexed by the jump in conversation, Grissom asked, "What is it you want me to do?"

"It's all in here—Adam wants to know if his father killed his mother or if his mother killed his father!"

Grissom looked from Brianna's face to Adam's. Both had expressions of expectation; Adam's frown had deepened while the girl's blue eyes stayed on Grissom.

Leaning back in his chair, Grissom shook his head, "I don't work…"

"Oh, I know you don't work for the crime lab now—but you're smart about these kinds of things! And you don't have to read it now, just when you have time. I know you can help us—we just don't know how to look at this."

Grissom turned to Adam, asking, "Adam, what do you hope to learn?"

The young man cleared his throat before speaking. "When I was nine, my parents left me at summer camp and a couple of weeks later—maybe three weeks—my grandmother arrived to tell me they were dead. They—they had gone for a drive, never returned and several days later, they were found dead near their car. It was a suicide pact," said the boy. "So the police said—both of them shot. A revolver was lying near that belonged to my father."

Intrigued, as well as captivated by the girl, Grissom's interest and curiosity stirred. "What makes you think it wasn't a double suicide?"

Adam glanced at Brianna who gave him an encouraging nod.

"I didn't think much at the time—I was a kid and you believe what adults say—but as I got older, I'd think about what happened—what I was told. I had not been home but everything seemed—seemed normal. They had visited one Sunday—that was parent's day—and they seemed usual, normal. My mom was one to worry about her health—not a hypochondriac—but that was normal for her. They stayed all afternoon and watched as we played a ball game and ran races—sort of showing what we were doing at camp."

Grissom said, "I don't know what I can do—there was never any question of another person—that they had been killed by someone else?"

Shaking his head, Adam said, "I would think my father killed my mother—it's more than way, isn't it? With a gun, I mean. Except—except when I really think about it—I don't think either of them wanted to die."

Grissom knew if he opened the file Brianna had placed on the table, it would signal his agreement to read all of it. He reached for it. He caught a smile returning to Brianna's face.

He asked, "You think someone else killed them?"

Adam shook his head, "I don't know—I've tried to think if anyone ever had a grudge against my parents or if there was anyone who wanted them dead." He shrugged his shoulders. "There wasn't any money—except a small savings account. And the police never thought—there wasn't any evidence that showed anyone else was with them."

"What do you think I can find?"

"Maybe nothing—nothing at all." Adam smiled for the first time and his entire face changed for a few seconds as he glanced at the smiling girl who had reached over and took his hand. "Brianna and I have talked—a lot—for several years now—about this. We're not obsessed about it, but I'd like to know—not just if it was my dad or my mom who pulled the trigger—I'd like to know who they were and why. Why did they decide to die while I was at camp?"

"Was there anyone else—any relatives other than your grandmother—anyone who worked with your parents?"

Adam seemed to think for a moment. "My father had his own business—he and my mother ran a small print shop. They made signs and printed things like church bulletins—nothing big. They didn't even own the building. An older man worked for them—his name is in the file—a few days a week. There was my grandmother and I had an aunt—my mother's sister—I didn't like her very much, and don't remember much about her."

With his index finger, Grissom opened the folder. He had no idea what he could do for this young man, but he had immediately liked both of them. And his memories of Brenda Collins—now a beautiful, smiling young woman—had stirred a compassion to help.

Before looking at the first page in the folder, Grissom said, "Tell me how you met. What are you doing now?"

His question was answered by Brianna; she said, "We've known each other since middle school—I'm in nursing school and Adam is studying accounting. He graduates in May. I'll graduate next year."

"Do you—are you a couple?" Grissom asked, unsure of their personal relationship.

Both laughed at the same time. Brianna said, "Sort of—but we're not ready to get married. I still live at home with my grandmother and Adam lives in the dorm."

"Okay," Grissom said, "I'll look at this. I—I don't know if I can find anything you haven't already discovered, but I'll read it." He looked down at the first page, surprised to find an index—or an outline for everything in the file. He grinned, "Someone has done their homework."

"We were hoping you'd help us so we tried to put everything in order!" Brianna said.

Grissom's phone buzzed; flipping it over, he quickly read Lindsey's text message.

Adam stood, extending his hand and saying, "Thank you, Dr. Grissom. Brianna's been trying to talk me into this for weeks."

As they shook hands, an idea formed in Grissom's mind. He said, "Brianna, would you like to meet Sara? I know she—she would be pleased to see you."

"I thought she left Vegas," the girl's cheeks flushed a bright pink. "I—I read about her—about that awful woman kidnapping her. One day I asked my grandmother to call the lab—to ask if Sara was okay—and a woman said Sara had resigned."

Grissom smiled. "She did leave for a while, but she's back." He held out his hand displaying a gold wedding ring, saying "She and I are married now. I know she would be—she would be thrilled to see you."

Smiling, Brianna nodded, "I would like to meet her—I would like that very much."

After a quick exchange of telephone numbers, Grissom walked with the young couple as they headed out of the building. He did not have to say much as Brianna talked about her nursing program, about Adam's work-experience position with a large accounting firm, and, in a pleasant way, confirmed Grissom's first impression of a very positive, well-adjusted young woman.

_A/N: We've always wanted Brenda to return-in a positive way-and now she has! In FF! Thanks for reading-and we appreciate hearing from you! All of you! Thanks! _


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Enjoy!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 7**

In a few minutes, Lindsey arrived for lunch holding several forms and brochures in her hand. She smiled as she approached Grissom, giving him a hug as she said:

"Who knew there was so much required to major in elementary education or in early child development! I have to have a background check!"

Grissom smiled as she released him.

"And I can get a single area of study—like reading—or I can do multiple subjects so I can teach multiple areas—there's a word for teaching everything in one classroom and it makes one more employable." Lindsey laughed, "Who knew it was so complicated?"

Grissom took her elbow and guided her toward the campus food court. "They make a mean cheeseburger in here—and a lot of other stuff."

The two ordered the same thing—burgers and fries—and made their way to an empty table. Conversation proceeded between them as they talked about Vegas, changes in the skyline, about memories of Lindsey's grandfather, and about Lindsey.

As the young woman talked, Grissom let his mind wander to similar moments with her mother. Catherine had been an accomplished investigator, but she had also been somewhat self-centered. As they ate, a mouthful of burger preventing either from talking, Grissom remembered the times Catherine left work to meet a man instead of heading home to Lindsey.

"Who's your mother's new friend? The one in Mexico?"

Lindsey scowled, saying, "Gil, she has a new 'boyfriend' every month! I don't even try to keep up with who she takes on her resort trips!"

He changed the subject. "Tell me about Sean."

And while he finished his burger and fries—and most of Lindsey's fries—she talked about Sean from the time they were in high school together—dates, his favorite foods, his new apartment—and Grissom could see she was infatuated if not in love with the young man. Talking about Sean, she actually talked less about herself.

Then, unexpectedly, she said, "Why don't we cook? Tonight! You and I can cook for Sean and Sara. If you give me a little guidance, I can get all the vegetarian stuff we need! Then I'll pick you up and Sara will have time to—to get ready for dinner!"

Grissom agreed, saying "Sara has a big case she's working—she'll be exhausted." He reached for a napkin and started making a list. "How about pizza? That's easy—and a salad—and dessert. There's a bakery near here that has a chocolate cake Sara loves—we'll pick one up."

Later, he watched as Lindsey walked toward the faculty parking garage. Lindsey was much like her mother, he thought, somewhat impulsive; he chuckled, and a definite handful for any man who decided to marry her. He could hardly wait to meet this boyfriend, Sean Oliver.

As he entered his faculty office, a sudden thought came to his mind. Lindsey's boyfriend had graduated from UNLV—he had access to all student records. He slid into his chair and tapped a few keys, had to look up his password—a compilation of twenty letters, numbers and symbols—and typed in the name. Only one Sean Oliver had graduated in the past three years; he clicked on the transcript.

"Huh," he whispered to himself as he scanned the grades and courses. Difficult curriculum, smart student, he thought. Then, he remembered his two recent visitors and keyed in Brianna Bailey, finding she was a straight A student in nursing. Adam Spencer was next and when Grissom saw the screen, he leaned back in his chair and gave a quiet whistle.

A few more screens and Grissom was looking at the entire educational history of Adam Spencer—high school valedictorian, SAT scores that would open doors to any Ivy League university, completed his first two years of college before he graduated from high school, and currently enrolled in UNLV's master in accounting program. With a double major in accounting and computer science, Adam had not had much time for extra-curricular activities, but he had played soccer on an intramural team.

Grissom checked several other student record screens before closing the system. Then he searched several other topics—one leading to another as he collected information—until he thought he had enough knowledge about a very specific subject.

Turning back to his desk, his hand reached for the file on Adam's parents; with a suicide, family members wanted an answer and many times there was not one. A smile gradually formed across his face as he turned page after page. Someone—two, probably—had spent a great deal of time and effort to provide him with an outline and narrative. His thumb flipped through another two dozen pages of the actual report of the double suicide.

Curiosity got to him; he turned to the last page of the report searching for signatures of who worked the case and found names he recognized. He closed the file, drumming his fingers as he thought.

He knew both the detective and the investigator—both had worked day-shift when he was at the lab. The detective was retired—he could start with him. The investigator had left the lab for another job—Grissom could not remember much about him. Chuckling, he realized he had made his first step; he placed the file in his bag and turned back to his microscope as he continued to think. How many years had he cautioned Sara about her involvement with survivors. Now, Sara would hear about—and meet—one of those survivors; he grinned. Brenda Collins—he wanted to see Sara's face when she heard the story.

His eyes went back to the microscope as his fingers turned the adjustment knob. For the next hour, he worked on slides; some he had made over the years, others had been made by graduate students as part of research projects. He sorted slides until he found the ones he wanted for a lab the following week.

When his phone played a familiar ring tone, he answered immediately. "Hello, dear!"

Most days, Sara did not call him while working but he had expected to hear from her today. He said nothing about meeting Brenda, now Brianna, as they discussed dinner and meeting Sean.

"Lindsey is coming back for me," he said. "We'll cook and you get home when you can."

A few more minutes of talking ended with brief terms of endearment and a promise to "see you soon" and "same here".

Sara had worked in the garage all day, stopping briefly for a quick lunch and to discuss evidence and the analysis of what had been processed. As quickly as the receipt for a campsite in Mississippi had been faxed, a young woman, dead for weeks when found in a creek, had been tentatively identified as another victim of the man locked up in the Vegas jail.

The desire to put this man away for the rest of his natural life kept Sara working; the two new investigators bagged, tagged, and labeled along with her. They were making progress, so when Greg came in with cups of hot tea, she was surprised to find it was nearly three o'clock.

Wearily, Sara took the tea as she and Greg found a place to sit.

"Find any new evidence?" asked Greg as he pointed to a map, newly posted on the wall.

"Not today—nothing obvious, that is," Sara said. "We put up the map and pinned places the receipts came from—all the way from Jacksonville, Florida." She passed a hand over her forehead. "I'm hoping we don't find any more evidence of another victim."

"Well, you've got him for the one here, the couple in Texas, and the girl Arizona—and probably the one in Mississippi."

Leaning her head against the wall behind them, Sara said, "I hope it helps the families."

"It does—maybe not at first, but they have to feel some kind of closure."

"I'm heading home in an hour—we're having guests for dinner." A quiet giggle slipped out. "Lindsey showed up at our house yesterday."

"Lindsey Willows?" Greg asked, leaning forward so he could see Sara's face. "What was Lindsey doing at your house?"

By the time Sara related Lindsey's story, it was almost time to clock out. Greg helped the three women carry the numerous bags and envelopes to the lab and distribute to the various techs.

Greg followed Sara into the locker room, saying "Let me know about this Sean guy!" He helped to pull the blue jumpsuit off Sara's shoulders. "I'd love to be a fly on the wall when Grissom meets this boyfriend—do you think there is something wrong with him for Catherine not to like him?"

Said Sara, "Catherine—I think Catherine wants Lindsey to be older before making a decision to marry." She shook free of the sleeves, stepped out of the jumpsuit, and threw it into a hamper. She had worn her jeans and shirt underneath the blue garment and took a few minutes to adjust her clothes as Greg continued to talk.

He said, "I know there was a load of money around old Sam Braun—probably millions just from the casino—so it sounds like Lindsey has to be twenty-five before she gets any of it." Laughter edged his voice as he continued, "Maybe Sam left most of it to Lindsey—you know, Catherine was pretty hard on him at times."

Softly, Sara laughed as she reached into her locker to get her bag, placed it on the bench, and pulled out a hair brush. "Definitely, Catherine's living expenses became more-more expensive in the last year or so she worked with us—and we both know that wasn't coming from Clark county employment."

As she turned back to a small mirror glued to the locker door, her leg touched her bag causing it to shift slightly and, in slow motion, it tilted to one side. Several small objects inside the bag tumbled and fell to the floor causing other items to shift and slide.

Greg reached for several ink pens, a tube of lip gloss, a small white bottle and tossed them back into the bag. He noticed a peculiar piece of paper—a black and white image, a bit grainy but easily recognizable for what it was—had been exposed by the bag's tumble. Puzzled, he looked up from his perch on the locker room bench and then, Greg noticed something that caused his train of thought to evaporate. His mouth dropped open in sudden realization.

Sara, expecting a response to her comments, glanced in his direction just as Greg's gaze dropped; suddenly, his cheeks reddened as if he had been slapped—or embarrassed—or had unexpectedly discovered a secret.

She sat down beside him, brush in one hand, and affectionately placed her free hand on his knee. Almost unconsciously doing so, she made an expression of confirmation without saying a word.

Greg's hand covered hers. He smiled and nodded.

_A/N: Thank you for reading! And we especially appreciate your reviews and comments! More to come..._


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Another chapter! Enjoy! And if you haven't let a comment, we'd enjoy hearing from you!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 8**

Later, at home, a long warm shower worked to sooth Sara's tight muscles, or at least alleviated much of the physical aches from being on her feet most of the day. Grissom had met her at the door with a fruit smoothie that helped to fill her empty stomach—and Lindsey seemed to be excited to be preparing a salad and cutting up ingredients for a pizza.

Her husband stayed close, not leaving the bathroom even after Sara told him she'd be awhile. So while in the shower, she told him of Greg's unintended discovery.

She heard a soft laugh before Grissom said, "Greg's good at keeping quiet—at some point—soon—you are going to have to announce you're leaving."

Sara's arm reached for a towel. She said, "I know—if this case had not turned into such a big one, I'd have handed it over to Morgan." She stepped from the shower, finding Grissom leaning against the bathroom wall.

He handed her another towel and helped to tuck it around her chest.

"And what's up with you? Our guest is in the kitchen and you are hanging around in the bathroom."

Grissom smiled, saying "I wanted to be near my wife."

Sara grinned. "You are guilty of something—come clean!"

The way he tucked his head, a perceptive smile playing at his lips, a hand tugging at his ear—Sara giggled at his telling motions. "Come clean—what have you done?"

Shaking his head, he said, "Nothing—this is one of those 'you are not going to believe this' story—and I want to see your face when you hear it. I had two visitors today—a young couple." He unwrapped the towel from her head and combed his fingers through her damp hair. He leaned over, inhaling the fragrance he had come to love.

Sara turned into his arms, puzzled by his quiet hesitation.

"Who?" She asked. "The same couple who came yesterday?"

Holding her face between his hands, Grissom smiled. "How many times have you worried about victims? How many times have I seen you cry?" He pulled her face to his and gently kissed her forehead. "Today, I had one of the first victims you encountered in Vegas walk into my office—and she remembers you, Sara, as her guardian angel."

Sara's forehead puckered in thought. A moment passed before she said, "Brenda Collins." She knew she was correct. She smiled, "Little Brenda Collins—she was only four—five—she'd be nineteen or twenty now."

Grissom nodded. "And she's good—she's really good—fine; a beautiful young woman, confident, a nursing student," he related the conversation, almost word-for-word, adding his own observations of a poised and well-adjusted young woman.

As he talked, Sara dressed. As she pulled a shirt over her head, he said, "And she would like to meet you—she remembered your name. Not anyone else until she read the report—she really is an amazing person, Sara. And she wants me to help her boyfriend—her friend—find out what happened to his parents."

"Brenda Collins—it's funny, but I thought of her—mentioned her to Greg. So what happened to the boyfriend's parents?" Sara asked as her face appeared. "And when do I get to meet Brenda?"

"Brianna—at some point her name was changed." He grinned, saying, "I think I stumbled over her name several times. The boy wants to know about his parents—wants me to look into the parent's suicides. "

Sara brushed her hair back into a ponytail; she wasn't surprised by his decision. "How are you going to help them?"

"I've already looked at the file—I'm going to talk to Sam Collier—he was the detective and I know he's been retired several years, so," he tilted his head as his eyebrow lifted, "so I'm calling him tomorrow."

He reached for Sara and hugged her tightly, nuzzling his lips against her ear, before he whispered, "And we have another young couple here tonight." He kissed her ear, saying, "I hope this works out—I don't want Catherine as an enemy!"

Sara returned his kiss, "She'll be fine—you can work on her!"

His arms circled Sara's body. He said, "We should have a party—invite everyone to make our announcement."

Sara frowned; pressing her lips together before saying, "I want to wait another week—at least. We'll know more because once we announce this, there will be fifty questions—a hundred questions." She pointed toward the kitchen. "Now we have a guest in our kitchen and we should help her."

Grissom pulled her into another tight hug. "I miss walking around in my boxers," he complained, "and scratching my butt—and patting yours."

Sara smiled, kissed him again, and said, "You can do all that when Lindsey leaves."

Sean Oliver arrived promptly at seven o'clock, causing Grissom and Sara to think he had stopped and waited until the appointed time came. He carried a bottle of expensive wine wrapped in paper and a bouquet of beautiful flowers. Lindsey latched her hand to his arm, a broad smile on her face, and introduced Sean to the Grissoms.

For years, Sara had a well-developed ability to hide her feelings, as did Grissom; both would later admit to their surprise when Sean Oliver walked into their home. It was rare to see a man as handsome or exotic appearing as Lindsay's boyfriend. Green eyes, an easy smile, a hint of dimples in his cheeks, and features that hinted at an Asian ancestor only added to his radiating charm.

And Lindsey was in a different mood; her hair was combed away from her face, she wore a pale-shade of pink lipstick, and her clothes were—in Sara's mind, she thought "grown up"—impeccably understated fashion.

The dinner and evening passed comfortably as the four talked about nothing in particular; Sara found considerable satisfaction in watching Grissom work the conversation. She knew—intelligent people, no matter their age, had a great deal in common. She was not surprised when Grissom asked questions about Sean's work.

Even when talking about his work, Sean could not keep his eyes away from Lindsey, trying to be subtle and failing. And from her behavior, Sara knew Lindsey was in a special heaven, sitting next to Sean and openly taking his hand. She caught Grissom's eye and both smiled.

Several hours later, Sara, with a degree of satisfaction in her voice, said, "I think we've achieved an absolutely amazing achievement, dear!"

Grissom chuckled. "You mean the part about Sean and me finding common ground with the 'environmental systems' while you and Lindsey cleaned up?"

She leaned against his shoulder and said, "I think it was very sweet of you to read up on what his company does and ask him the right questions."

"Lindsey was satisfied?"

Sara laughed softly, "Yes, and your stature as a host is assured for years to come."

Rocking back on his heels, Grissom smiled. "I'll take Lindsey to the airport in the morning—maybe you can sleep late."

Sara's brows rose in unison; she gave an amusing mumble. "I want to read about the double suicide—tonight!" She giggled, "Several times tonight I thought I might be rushing our company, but they appeared to appreciate our encouragement to spend some time together."

"What do you think of Sean?"

"Nice young man—obviously, he thinks a lot of Lindsey—did you watch his eyes? He would have eaten cardboard if she'd served it to him and not noticed!"

"Yeah," Grissom agreed before asking, "What's with Catherine? Why would she not like him? Or why doesn't she want them to get married?"

Sara shrugged, saying "Lindsey is young. She's coming into a lot of money in a few years. And you know Catherine." Sara giggled. "She is not going to like being a mother-in-law! And can you see her as a grandmother?"

Grissom laughed, shaking his head. "I'll talk with her when she gets back. She's got a law firm taking care of Sam's fortune so I'd think they can set Lindsey up with whatever she needs—a pre-nup or something like that."

Together, they folded covers back on their bed; Grissom fluffed pillows as Sara crawled onto the bed and tossed his book to him.

A few minutes later, he handed Sara the yellow file he had gotten from Brianna Bailey earlier in the day. He said, "Not a lot to go on, but tell me what you think—first blush."

Sara smiled and settled against pillows, bringing her knees up to provide support for the file. And she started reading.

Ten minutes later, she looked up. "The police investigated it—but it is one of those indecisive things. They were both shot—not possible to say who pulled the trigger—either one could have. But no one seemed to think it was a crime—that someone else was involved. Smudged fingerprints on the gun matched the bodies."

Grissom said, "The gun belonged to—to the father, right?"

"Yes, he had the gun registered when he purchased it," Sara said glancing at Grissom; his face showed surprise. "It's in a footnote—and he had a second one—found in the house."

Grissom made an approving murmuring sound.

Sara continued, "There was nothing mentioned of any quarrel or disagreement. No money problems. No health problems found in their medical records. Of course, we never know what goes on behind closed doors."

Moving across the bed, Grissom wiggled his feet next to Sara's. "No one but the two of us will know what goes on here!" He slid beside her until his head was under her elbow. "Unless you tell Greg everything," he whispered.

Closing the file, Sara giggled as he began to nuzzle his mouth against her ribs. When she placed the file on the bedside table, she also turned off the lamp. Rolling over in bed, her husband wrapped his arms around her.

Years ago, Gil Grissom had realized that sometimes there was no reaching the end of desire; simply, he would never get enough of her. Even so, he knew when fatigue and sleep became a priority.

"Sweet dreams, Sara." He whispered as he pulled her into a comfortable position.

_A/N: Thank you for reading!_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N Thanks for reading-fixed an error! _

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 9 **

Grissom was surprised at the change that had occurred in Lindsey; she had relaxed, becoming much more pleasant in her conversation. She smiled easily—and on the ride to the airport, she spoke positively about her mother without the edginess that had been in her voice the day she had arrived. He promised to talk with Catherine as soon as she returned; Lindsey promised to attend classes and finish the semester.

"Sean's a nice guy," Grissom said.

Lindsey agreed. "Mom wants me to do all the things she claims she missed by marrying—and having me—when she was young. But we are different—I think we are different—we want to do things together."

At the airport, she gave Grissom a tight hug and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Gil. And I still wish you had been my dad—you'd make a good dad!"

Grissom grimaced until she released him. "Take care of yourself, Lindsey. We'll see you in a few weeks—we'll talk before then."

He waved as she entered the terminal and then he headed across town to meet a retired detective.

Sam Collier looked like a detective even in retirement. He was short, stout, white-haired, and wore a suit at least a decade old, but his white shirt was starched within an inch of its life. Yet, he had a cheerful temperament that had created goodwill with everyone who worked with him.

Looking across the table at Grissom, Sam knew the former lab supervisor had a reason for this visit; both men had enjoyed time reminiscing about law enforcement in Clark County. Sam drained his coffee cup before saying:

"Well, what about this suicide?"

"It was suicide?" asked Grissom.

Sam shrugged, "What else could it be? But it was a puzzling suicide—double suicide. Left the little boy at camp—had no problems in work or marriage that we found. I checked up on the family's history—nothing there."

A waitress appeared, poured fresh coffee, and asked if the two men would like dessert.

"Two apple pie slices," Grissom said, "with ice cream," he nodded at Sam who gave an affirmative nod.

"You know, there was one thing—the wife, Polly Spencer—had a twin sister. Can't remember her name—Molly or Holly—she died a few weeks—maybe two weeks before the suicides. She had come out for a visit and they had gone hiking out at Red Rock—all three of them. Somehow, she fell," the older man hesitated. "I haven't thought about this in years, you know. But it seems she climbed up to take a photograph, lost her footing and fell. She was dead by the time they got to her."

"Maybe that's what caused the double suicide?" asked Grissom.

Sam Collier shook his head, saying, "We never could tie anything to the sister's death—maybe the wife was depressed over her sister's death? Who knows—they were twins. But, then why both of them? Why the husband?"

Grissom flipped through papers in the yellow file. "I don't find anything about the sister's death in here."

"It wouldn't be—I never could find one thing to connect her death with the suicides. Neighbors said the sister had visited only a few times—but it seems there was a story, Grissom. Won't come to mind right now—but that neighborhood is an old one—you might find some of the same neighbors still there."

The waitress placed two plates of pie piled high with several scoops of ice cream. She smiled as both men expressed satisfaction.

"It was something about the sister—she had a child who died—way back in the past. The sister's were identical twins—both women had one child but I don't think there was a husband to the one who fell—they buried her here—in Vegas. So, if there was a husband—see what I mean?"

Grissom shook his head; he asked, "The sister's death worried you at the time, didn't it?"

Scooping a bite of pie and ice cream into his mouth, Sam took a long moment to answer. "Yeah, yes, it did. We were all so over-worked and it seemed to be a cut-and-dried suicide pact. But it just didn't sit right—know what I mean?"

Agreeing, but uncertain what he was agreeing to, Grissom waited, hoping more information would be forthcoming. In silence, they finished their desserts.

"There was something else about the sister—she had a mental history—or something. Hell, I can't remember," Sam shook his head, adding, "to many years, Grissom. Wish I could remember all of it." He wadded up his napkin. "Let's ride over to the cemetery—Rest Haven—I know where they are buried."

Grissom followed, thinking about the information in the file and running his mind over what Sam Collier had said about the case. At the cemetery, he pulled to a stop behind Sam's car; the two men got out. It took a few minutes for Sam to locate the graves in a large grassy lawn of similar headstones, but he did.

Side by side, three graves were marked with two rectangle headstones; one was for Adam Spencer's parents, the other for Holly Wilder, same birth date as Polly Spencer. Their death dates were eighteen days apart.

The two men stood quietly for several minutes. Grissom brought his hand to his face, deeply thoughtful as he silently marked off what he knew—and knew it wasn't enough.

Finally, Sam Collier chuckled. "Got you hooked, hasn't it? I haven't thought about it in years, but for months afterwards, I'd think—something else was going on—something I didn't catch at the time."

"Gary Turner worked the scene with you—what'd he think?"

"Ahhh—you know how we worked—stayed on a case for twenty-four hours or until another one came along. We closed it—for what it was. They made a pact probably—maybe one of them was having an affair—maybe the wife thought she had a terminal disease."

Grissom pushed his hands into his pockets. "The son wants to know why—who killed who." He sighed, saying, "I was hoping for—for more."

Sam Collier chuckled. "You can find something—if anyone can, you can. Talk to the neighbors. Is the grandmother still alive? She was the husband's mother, I believe." He looked around the cemetery. "I don't see another Spencer grave nearby—but that doesn't mean anything."

"I can ask the boy—Adam." Grissom paused before saying, "You never asked how I got involved."

Both men turned and slowly started walking back to the cars.

"I figured the boy found you at the university."

"Remember that Collins case—parents and boys killed, two girls survived—turned out the teenage girl had killed all of them. The little girl—all grown up—is his friend."

Sam nodded, saying, "The teenage girl was the mother of the little one—everyone talked about that case."

"Well, Brenda Collins is grown up and a beautiful young woman. She's the one who found me—asked if I'd look into this—Adam Spencer is her boyfriend."

The two men leaned against Grissom's vehicle and, in silence, looked at the cemetery for several minutes.

"I'll try to remember more," Sam said. "Sara is still working? And Jim Brass?"

"Yeah."

"They can help. Visit the neighborhood—take Sara. Those women will open up if you've got a woman with you."

They shook hands, conversed for several more minutes before parting, driving in different directions, but both thinking about two deaths nearly a decade in the past.

_A/N: And hope you will leave a comment! Thank you!_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading! More to come..._

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 10**

Sara had finally moved to a make-shift desk—a long table and rolling chair—that D.B. had brought into the garage area they were using. Hannah and Emily continued to work with all the detritus they had removed from the van. Sara tapped the laptop and scrolled through items that had already been logged in. Tedious work, she thought, but required for chain of custody documentation. Every number must match with contents of the bags and envelopes—and at least she got to sit down.

She looked up as D.B. shouted a greeting to the two younger women as he walked in. Under his arm was a metal folding chair. Smiling as he got to the table, resting his hand on Sara's shoulder as he sat down, he said:

"It's all for good, Sara. He's just admitted to killing nine people—so he'll be heading to prison. Texas wants him first and I think a deal is in the works." He patted her back, saying, "You did good—really good on this one."

Sara nodded, "Hannah and Emily really worked hard."

D.B. laughed. "Is it so hard for you to take a compliment, Sara? If you had not insisted on cleaning out that van, we might have overlooked everything else. And now, we should talk about you—how are you doing?"

"Good—good." She paused and marked her list, pushing away from the table and turning toward her supervisor. Smiling, she said, "Everything is fine—really. I'd let you know otherwise."

"How's Gil?"

"Good—fine—he's happy at the university. And he's got a little mystery to solve," softly, she laughed. "A young man wants him to find out if his father killed his mother or his mother killed his father."

D.B. looked perplexed; Sara continued, "Nine or ten years ago, they committed suicide—double suicide—so the son asked Gil to look at the case and see what he found."

His expression had not changed. "Why'd he ask Gil? Did he work the case?"

"That's where it gets interesting. The first year I was in Vegas, we had a case—four family members were killed, only two girls survived—one a teenager and a younger one, four or five years old. Gil put me in charge of Brenda—the little girl. And it was Brenda who found Gil. I think he was so surprised to see her that he would have agreed to anything!"

"What happened to the teenage girl?"

Sara lifted one eyebrow, saying sadly, "Tina Collins killed the parents and her brothers. She had been abused, molested by her father—she was the mother of little Brenda—and no one noticed or did anything about it. When the father started molesting Brenda, Tina decided everyone had to die!"

"Oh! That's—that's horrible!"

Sara said, "Gil says Brenda—who is Brianna now—is a beautiful young woman."

"And her mother—Tina?"

Frowning, Sara answered, shaking her head, "Tina didn't live two years. For a while she was in the state hospital, but then she was slated to transfer to prison. Somehow, she got an over-the-counter med and took a massive dose. Died a week later."

"Who raised the girl?"

"An aunt and a grandmother—and now Brenda—Brianna is a nursing student."

D.B. ran his fingers through his hair. "You're going to tell me when you've made a decision?"

"You know what I'm going to do—I've told you," Sara said, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"You might change your mind." He looked at her and laughed, "Yes, I know what you're going to do. It's taken a long time for you two, hasn't it?"

She nodded again. "We have an appointment on Friday—what we didn't know before, we'll know then."

D.B. softly chuckled, "You are looking radiant—more than usual—has anyone noticed? Said anything?"

"Greg knows—I dropped some things out of my bag."

"Greg's smart—does he know everything?"

Sara shook her head. "We're going to tell everyone at the same time, I think. Gil wants to have a party!"

"Good idea! What's the name of the couple?" He asked as he stood.

"Couple?"

"The double suicide—I'll see what I can find."

Sara gave him the names.

An hour later, he returned, handed Sara a bottle of water as he placed a stack of papers in front of her. "Found these—might help to have names of people that were interviewed about the Spencer's."

When Sara smiled, he sat down and said, "Appears to be a double suicide—or one killed the other—must have been hard on a little boy."

"I think that's the reason Gil agreed to help," Sara said, pausing a few seconds before adding, "Gil was nine when his father died."

D.B. sat quietly for several minutes before saying, "You know the minute he begins to ask questions, he'll get a good idea of what their lives were like. But—you know—memories fade. And it wasn't a sensational death—not like some in Vegas. If the investigation came up with nothing but suicides, there may be nothing to find out—but there might have been a motive, not easily found. Someone—a relative, a neighbor—might remember something."

"He wants me to go with him to talk to neighbors," said Sara. "Thinks a woman being there might help. I remember things—specific events, even the day some things happened." She smiled at D.B. "And I'm not so different from other people! Sometimes it takes asking the right questions and waiting for an answer. Gil is very good at that—the waiting part."

"Why don't you leave? I can do the checking." He grinned. "Surprise Gil. Tell him I've given you an assignment—to help him!" Reaching over, he turned her chair around, away from the table. "You've worked hard on this case—I'm giving you three days off—rest and—and help your husband! I'm sending you on a journey of discovery."

It took several seconds for Sara to make her decision; she stood, thanking D.B. and telling the two young women they would be working with the real boss for a few days. She was in the locker room when Jim Brass found her.

"Hey—D.B. said you were leaving early. I've got something for you—for Gil." The soft chuckle came as he walked into the locker room, saying, "Didn't mean to surprise you, honey."

Sara had just tossed the blue jumpsuit into the hamper; not expecting anyone, she had been startled by Jim's voice. "I thought I was alone," she said.

He held a manila folder in one hand and pointed a finger at her. "Gil came up with a name in his 'investigation' of the Spencer's double suicide—a sister. So," the older man straddled a bench and sat down, "here's the file—a copy—of her death. Not much in here except that she fell at Red Rocks." He paused a few seconds before saying, "And you, Sara, are going to tell me what's going on."

Sara stuck her arms into a lightweight jacket and smiled. "Did Gil tell you everything? About Brenda Collins finding him?"

Brass nodded, "He told me all about looking into these suicides for the boy—and about Brenda Collins." His eyebrows lifted several times causing his forehead to wrinkle in layers of deep trenches; the edges of his mouth lifted in a grin. "What I want to know is what's going on with you!" His eyes twinkled as his smile grew.

Sara gave him a side-ways glimpse.

"I'm not leaving until you tell."

"What did Gil tell you?"

"Not a thing—except to ask for this," he waved the folder. "I keep up with you, Sara. Kind of make sure you—you are okay. All this excitement about this serial killer—that's a notch on your belt in a big way—but there's something else." He chuckled, "You've got something else going on—and I think I know—but I want to hear it from you."

Jim Brass had always been her friend; Gil's friend for longer. She sat beside him, saying, "We—we do have something going on. Gil wants to have a party—tell everyone at one time. Answer all the questions at one time."

His expression did not change, but she saw the light fade in his eyes. She leaned over and whispered in his ear.

The familiar sound of his laugh came to Sara's own ear. "There's more," she whispered and she put her lips next to his ear and shared.

_A/N: Read, enjoy, review! And as a bribe-leave a comment and the next chapter will come quickly! Sara hasn't met Brenda yet! _


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: A new chapter just for you! Enjoy!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 11**

Grissom flipped through pages in the yellow folder as Sara drove across the city; he reached over and took her hand. She had told him about talking to Brass which caused him to laugh—not the first time Detective Jim Brass had reached a truth about Sara's life. Grissom squeezed her hand and smiled; he had been holding her hand for years, he realized.

"It was good of D.B. to give you the list of neighbors," he said.

Sara slowed as she turned into a neighborhood. "It's a start."

She had left the lab, made a call to her husband, and picked him up a few minutes later. Together, they decided a quick visit to Adam Spencer's old neighborhoodmight yield something—and they had the list of names.

"There it is—the Spencer's address," Grissom said as he pointed to a gray house, neatly kept, flowers on the porch.

The street curved and made a loop before rejoining itself. Adam's old home was located in the loop so Sara drove around, counting the houses before she stopped at the curb between two houses.

"Looks like we're lucky no developer came in and knocked them all down," Grissom said as he checked the list. "You want to split up?"

Sara smiled, "No, we stay together. Besides—this is your investigation. I'm here to take notes."

"Let's try the neighbor on the left." An older model car was in the carport.

They walked up a cracked sidewalk; one pot of flowers, wilting in the afternoon sun, hung from a hook on the porch. Before Grissom touched the doorbell, Sara noticed a slight movement of a curtain. Almost immediately, they heard the shuffling of feet and then a lock turned.

The door opened on a chain and one-half of a wrinkled white face appeared. "I don't want to buy anything."

Sara nearly choked when Grissom held up his university ID card, saying, "I'm Gil Grissom—this is my wife, Sara."

The lined face wrinkled even more.

"We are not here to sell anything. We know Adam Spencer—he lived next door as a child," Grissom explained. "We're trying to learn something about his mother's death—he asked if I would—would talk to the neighbors."

The door closed, the chain moved, and then the door opened again. "I remember Adam—and his mother." The face belonged to an elderly, short and wide woman wearing baggy knee-length shorts and a bright pink sleeveless shirt.

Grissom reached for Sara as the old woman held the door open to admit them.

Sara asked, "Are you Mrs. Barnes?" She held out her hand. "Sara Grissom."

"Lois Barnes, yes, yes, I am." A fleshy hand shook Sara's and waved toward the living room. "So Adam must be grown now—what did you say about his mother?"

Briefly, Grissom explained the reason for the visit—at Adam's request to learn something about his parents—and played his role as friend and mentor, inquiring about the old lady's health in a way that caused Sara to smile.

The older woman sat in a worn armchair, indicating the sofa for Grissom and Sara. Glancing around, Sara realized the green room had not been redecorated in years. Faded framed prints of flowers were arranged in groupings; old photographs covered surfaces of tables and were lined up on top of an old piano. The green walls, a shade nearly the color of an avocado, and the carpet on the floor were almost the same, and the upholstered furniture was a blend of two or three similar greens. Sara almost giggled when she thought of frogs; the entire room could hide a thousand frogs.

But Grissom was talking and she swung her eyes back to the old lady who said, "It's been a good many years, but yes, that was a very sad tragedy."

"Yes, yes—and Adam is a young man now. He—he asked me if I could find out anything about his parents. He doesn't remember much," Grissom said. "So we thought one of the neighbors might be able to help us."

Lois Barnes nodded, thoughtfully saying, "I don't remember seeing Adam again—not after the funerals—but I think it would be hard for a young man to—to go around asking about his parents. He might hear something—you know, something he didn't want to know."

"So you remember them well?"

"Oh, yes! We were neighbors for six or seven years, I think. Adam was a little boy when they moved in. Polly, his mother, was a good woman—she doted on that little boy." Intense blue eyes met Sara's. "It was always a mystery to me—why she did that—killed herself and left her little boy."

Sara leaned forward, placing her hands together, asking, "Do you remember anything that might help us piece together why Adam's parents killed themselves?"

"The police said it was suicide—one of them killed the other and then killed himself—or maybe one killed herself and then he killed himself—I always thought it had to be Mr. Spencer. He worked all the time—they had a business and he spent long hours there." Lois Barnes shook her head, adding, "But he loved that boy too."

Asking, "What do you think happened?" Grissom shifted his position so his knee touched Sara's; he leaned forward. She glanced at him, thinking he could charm a black widow spider if he wanted.

The older woman's finger traced along the chair's well-worn fabric for several moments. Finally, she said, "There was talk—you know how people, neighbors that really didn't know them—said there was another woman." A quick smile, and then, "Of course, just as many said there was a man, so who knows. I never thought that—never heard a quarrel between them. And our yards were not fenced then so the boy would play back and forth."

Softly, Grissom asked, "Could it have been jealousy?"

Lois shook her head, answering, "I wouldn't think so. Polly was a beautiful woman—do you have a picture of her? I'm sure I do somewhere." She started to rise from the chair, but Grissom motioned for her to stay seated. She sat back, saying, "Something else—Polly was a beauty, dark hair, always looked nice. Before she died, she changed her hair style—not much, but shorter."

"I know it's asking a lot, but do you remember the last conversation you had with Mrs. Spencer?"

Without hesitating, Lois Barnes said, "Of course. She was telling me about a book she was reading—something about women changing history. I thought it odd at the time—you know, reading history." The older woman chuckled, "She and I were always swapping trashy romance novels—paperbacks, mostly—so Polly reading a serious book was—was different."

Again, Grissom asked a question. "Do you remember her sister?"

Mrs. Barnes' eyes sparkled again and then a frown creased her forehead. "Oh—I had almost forgotten all the brouhaha about her sister. She came out for a couple of visits, about once a year—but she—she wasn't right, if you know what I mean."

Grissom and Sara shook their heads, indicating they did not know.

"They were identical twins. Polly told me they had gotten their first tooth on the same day but there was something about the sister that was off. Not physically—she was as beautiful as Polly—but she was off. Not something I could put my finger on, and I only saw her a few times, but Polly didn't talk about her sister. It was like—she'd show up—not that they were expecting her, she'd be here and stay two weeks and be gone."

Pulling herself up, Lois Barnes quieted Grissom's protest with a wave of her hand. "I'll find the pictures." With that she walked to a bookcase and, after several minutes, returned with two large photo albums.

Sara pulled out a small notebook and started writing notes.

Another few minutes passed as Mrs. Barnes thumbed through pages. "Ahh—here they are!" She turned the book so Grissom and Sara could see the page.

A younger Lois Barnes was in each photograph; she pointed to three of them. "This is Polly and me and this is Adam with me—sweet little boy—and all of us here." The group shot showed the boy and his father kneeling on grass and the three women behind them. Two identical looking women flanked Mrs. Barnes.

"Which one is Polly?" asked Grissom.

Without hesitating, Lois Barnes pointed at one. "This is Polly—longer hair—and this is Holly."

"Holly died a few weeks before the suicides," Sara injected.

Lois lifted her eyes from the photographs, saying, "I had forgotten that. You're not old enough to know how one forgets the order of things—certain events happen and you can't remember if it was ten years ago or seven years ago or if one thing happened and then another—sometimes they get all jumbled up. But, yes, now, I remember. The sister came for a visit and in a few days she was dead."

A finger tapped the photos. Lois said, "It was more than a few days—these pictures were taken then—when the sister came and before they took Adam to camp." She sighed, "I never realized this was probably the last ones taken of the family."

The three talked for a while, in generalities about the neighbors and the neighborhood, returning to the Spencer's and the photographs when Grissom asked:

"Is there anything else you remember? Anything at all?"

She shook her head. "No, not right now, Dr. Grissom. At the time, I could never imagine a cause for their deaths—so sudden like that. With the little boy at camp—was it something about the sister? I can't think why—she wasn't here very long—but I wouldn't be surprised if she jumped from a cliff out there. She was off—not that one could tell by looking." Carefully, she peeled the three photos from the page and handed them to Grissom.

"The Spencer's were happy. Adam was happy—but that sister was—was different." She sighed loudly and let her eyes wander around the room before settling on the front window. "The Simons are younger than I am. They've been here almost as long as me—and might remember something."

Again, Lois struggled to get out of her chair, refusing Grissom's hand, and made her way to a phone hanging on a wall where she pressed numbers from memory. Sara and Grissom listened to one-side of the conversation as Lois Barnes explained the reason for calling and they heard the confirmation that both neighbors would come.

"I'm going to fix coffee," Lois said as she hung up the telephone. "I may have some cookies—just stay there—let the Simons in, would you? Jewel and Mark, be here in three minutes." The older woman disappeared and the rush of water and clank of a metal pot caused Sara to think coffee would be instant.

_A/N: A lot going on in this story-thank you for reading and, as always, we appreciate hearing from readers!_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: A new chapter! More clues! _

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 12**

Jewel and Mark Simon did not disappoint; they arrived in less than three minutes. The two were younger than Mrs. Barnes by at least six months, but obviously more active, Sara thought, as she watched the couple leave their home. Both were compactly built, walking quickly across the street, excited that their day had been interrupted by the call from Lois.

After greetings, after Jewel helped Mrs. Barnes in the kitchen while Mark Simon asked questions of Sara and Grissom, establishing who they were, how they knew Adam, everyone moved to the dining table with cups of coffee and a plate of slightly stale chocolate chip cookies.

Lois Barnes had been correct; their collective memories of the Spencer family provided a few more details and several additional stories of Adam, his parents, and the last weeks of their lives in the neighborhood. Recollections tumbled out, some disagreements occurred as to the sequence of events, but, as Sara scribbled notes, she realized there was a collective agreement on one thing.

One said: "Adam had gone to camp." While another contradicted saying, "No, he went a few days later—after the sister arrived." "Yes," agreement from Jewel Simon, "Holly was here—that's when Lois' photographs were taken." One remembered a dog, "Didn't the dog bite Polly?" "What happened to the dog?" another asked, followed by a discussion of the dog's color and size.

Mark Simon said, "That sister was an odd one, Dr. Grissom. If there was a reason for these suicides, I'd point a finger at Holly—there was something not right about her."

Sara wrote his words down, underlining several.

After they listened to a third or fourth version of the same events with little new information, Grissom, with remarkable kindness, expressed thanks and a need to depart.

"Do let us know if we've helped," asked Jewel Simon. "I hadn't thought about the Spencer's in years, but at the time, I cried for weeks about all of it. The grandmother sent movers to pack everything up; the house sold a few weeks later."

With sadness, Mrs. Barnes said, "Polly let her flowers die the week before she died. I kept thinking she had forgotten to water them—but now, maybe something was going on—to let her flowers die like that."

Sara's eyes met Grissom's.

As they drove away—again, Sara drove—neither spoke. Grissom's phone rang twice before he roused out of deep thought to answer it.

Sara smiled as she listened to the conversation between Grissom and Jim Brass. Before he ended the call, she made a right turn and headed to a favorite café.

With a laugh, Grissom said, "Sara already knows where you are! We'll be there in ten minutes."

"What has he found?"

Grissom said, "Found something interesting on a Holly Wicker—thinks it's our twin sister Holly."

"Something odd about the sister," Sara said with a laugh. "All three thought so—and what did Adam say about his aunt? 'I didn't like her'—so why does a nine year old boy not like his aunt?"

"We need to talk to Adam again."

"I want to meet Brenda—Brianna."

A few minutes later, Sara pulled into a parking space next to Brass' car. The man waved from a table at the window.

Grissom held the door for Sara as both entered the small dining room. This was not a popular place with law enforcement—one of the reasons Grissom and Brass had found the place useful for quiet talks.

Menus were brought; the waitress gave recommendations for a dinner special and disappeared for a few minutes.

"You must have been near," Brass said.

"Talking to Adam Spencer's neighbors," Sara replied. "I took notes—and there was something odd about the twin sister."

Brass tapped a finger on a file, saying "The one that fell to her death—and the one that came out here from Denver for a week or so every summer."

Two pairs of intense eyes looked across the table at Brass. He grinned. "Isn't out of your system yet, is it?" Quietly, he chuckled, "Curiosity never dies."

The waitress returned with filled water glasses and took their orders—the special meat loaf plate for Brass and vegetable plates for Grissom and Sara.

As soon as the waitress left the table, Brass said, "Forget the sister and the Spencer's right now—I want to know about this." He waged his finger between Grissom and Sara. "What am I? Chopped liver? I had to figure out Miss Rosy Cheeks here was keeping a little secret." He tapped his forehead. "I've been a detective for a long time."

Grissom chuckled.

Sara blushed. She poked an elbow into Grissom's rib which caused him to laugh again.

He said, "We wanted to wait—until we knew—everything. That—that everyone was healthy. Tomorrow—tomorrow, we'll find out." Grissom chuckled again, "But you and your great detective abilities—well, now you know!"

Brass lifted his water glass in a toasting gesture. "Here's to everyone—including the father's—good health! And I'm thrilled—it's taken a long time."

Sara nodded, "It has—I'd almost given up—fourth time worked."

Waving his hand, Brass said, "I don't even begin to understand how all of it works—but congratulations. You'll be great parents!"

Grissom placed an arm around Sara's shoulders. He said, "She's had the tough side of this—what I did was nothing."

Sara denied; Grissom smothered her words with a graphic description of injections.

"No, no!" Brass exclaimed, "I don't want to hear about this—I want baby making to be about soft sheets and—and dim lights, not injections and test tubes!"

Sara laughed, "Well, we tried that before we moved on—and now I want to know about this twin sister."

The men chuckled. The waitress arrived with plates of hot food; flatware, napkins, salt and pepper were passed around and food tasted before talk returned to Holly Wicker.

Brass said, "She had a long history of mental problems."

"We've already heard she was odd—even the boy said he didn't like his aunt," said Grissom.

"The boy had a reason—seems that Holly Wicker threw her baby into a river." Brass tapped the folder, saying "It's all in here. She went for a walk with the baby and next thing you know, she's throwing the little guy into cold water. Witnesses saw it happen, tried to save the kid—she said the devil made her do it."

"Oh," Grissom and Sara whispered the same word on a long breath.

Grissom asked, "How'd you get this?"

"Said we were opening a cold case." Brass snapped his fingers, saying "Didn't even ask for a warrant and they faxed the entire medical record."

"Who are they?" Grissom asked.

"The Coleman Institute in Colorado—near Denver. Holly Wicker was a patient on a continuing basis for nearly twenty years—from the time she was fourteen or fifteen and pushed a small boy into a pond. The boy lived only because Holly's sister, your Polly Spencer, jumped in and dragged the little boy to safety. After throwing her own baby into a river, she was an inpatient for years, then lived in 'supported' living—some kind of group home—until her death."

Sara asked, "Husband? Family?"

"Family was her sister—parents died years ago. Husband divorced her a few years after the baby incident."

"So Adam had reasons—I'd think it was instinctive—at nine years old, I don't think his parents would have told him about his aunt." Grissom said as he pushed peas into his potatoes.

"You said he was smart," Sara said.

"Yeah, he is," Grissom answered.

"And they took him to camp when his aunt arrived," Sara pointed out. "His mother did not want her son in the same house with her baby-killing sister."

"She was one sick woman," Brass said, moving the folder toward Grissom. "Don't ask me why she was ever discharged to walk among the ones of us who act normal—or what passes for normal." He shook his head. "I didn't read all of it but your Polly is mentioned once or twice—seems she visited her sister or participated in some kind of family-sister therapy."

One after the other, the three expressed thoughts, asked questions of each other, offered opinions and then back-tracked to another view.

"I need to visit the ladies," Sara said. "Don't move on without me!"

As soon as she disappeared, Brass asked, "How is she doing? Really?"

A smile spread across Grissom's face before he said, "She's doing great—really great. This has been one rough road for her. A woman has to go through so much—she's been so positive—but it's been an ordeal repeated four times. I would've given up long ago and after the third time, we almost did." His hand wiped across his face as he said, "She and the doctor decided to try one more time," he snapped his fingers, "and now going on twenty weeks and all appear healthy!"

"I'd be scared to death—even as a younger man, with Ellie, I'd wake up with nightmares."

Grissom agreed. "It is frightening—and with this, you cannot imagine what we get to see! We watched as," his fingers went together to make a circle and his index finger pushed into it, "the sperm is placed—the 'moment of conception'—it really is fascinating. She goes in every week and I think those visits push the nightmares away."

Brass chuckled, "How old are you?"

Grissom made a face, saying, "Jim, I'm so much older—Sara has no family. That's—I did not want her…" he broke off quickly and said, "and here comes Sara!"

Sara returned to her chair and asked, "What did you two decide?"

"I need to talk to Adam," Grissom said.

"I want to meet Brianna!" said Sara.

_A/N: Thank you for reading! A heart-felt thank you to those who review! Enjoy!_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Enjoy! This chapter is just for 'You Know Who You Are'!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 13 **

Sara burrowed under covers knowing she would not return to sleep. After a quiet evening at home, she had dosed off watching television while Grissom read everything he had collected about Adam Spencer's parents and the file on Holly Wicker. At some point, her husband had walked her into the bedroom and put her to bed while he had continued to read until she passed into dreamland. She had never needed much sleep but lately, she could fall asleep in a moment; after five or six hours, she would wake up ready to—to do something.

She smiled as she thought about "something". She had the entire day off—and it would be after lunch before Adam and Brianna arrived. A long leisurely morning—then she remembered her appointment which would take an hour or so—but that was still hours away. She stretched and thought about the young woman she would meet again.

Brenda Collins; she remembered her as a fragile, waif-like child whose only expression of reality had been to reach for Sara's hand. The physician had diagnosed Brenda's inability to speak as traumatic stress—at the time, no one knew if the child would recover, but according to Grissom's impression of Brenda, she had recovered.

Stretching her arm across the bed, Sara found her husband's shoulder and ran her palm along the curve of his neck. She scooted closer so her lips touched his skin and felt the immediate prickling across his flesh. She flicked her tongue several times, moving her lips as she lightly drew her fingers along his jaw to his ear.

Then, by some mysterious silent consensus, Grissom made a low rumbling sound and rolled to face her. His lips sought hers and, in the early morning darkness, Sara met him with an agenda all her own. She felt a smile crease his face as his warm mouth moved to her neck. Silence continued as he kissed and stroked in a slow, familiar rhythm of intimacy of long-time lovers.

She allowed herself to sink into his embrace as memories flooded her brain—of the fast, frantic love making they had experienced, of the luxury of time when they had finally decided to live together, of a separation that seemed to have lasted a life-time, and then, of marriage—a marriage of love that reached the depth, the breadth, the height their souls could reach. She could not imagine waking without him in her life.

A gasp caused her memories to disappear as Grissom's thumb gently caressed the tip of her breast, a reminder of her heightened awareness of touch. He pushed his pelvis against her hips, sending a raft of sensations radiating to her toes and to her brain.

Incredible pleasure, she thought; marvelous passion, she thought, as sensation surged through her limbs. Her hand drifted downward, past his waist to his thigh, to the obvious erection rising from a bird's nest of silky silver. She slid down his body, marking a path with kisses; she felt his hand lightly touch the back of her head, pressing her against him.

The scent of his skin, the feel of flesh on her lips, the velvety softness of curls surrounding his penis worked to heighten passion. Sara took time to explore, to stroke and fondle, caressing him with her lips, her tongue, her fingers, until a moment of near urgency caused Grissom to reach down and lift her to the pillows.

His first words of the day came, "Sara…Sara."

As his fingers gently slipped into the warmth between her legs, intense desire swept all thoughts from Sara's mind. She knew she was experiencing passion in its purest sense. Her fingers threaded through her husband's hair as she felt a physical want deep within her body.

Grissom was lost in Sara's warmth and softness; her scent filled his head and claimed his senses. He loved the taste of her, the feel of her lying naked, and the sensation of her release when he was deep inside her. In response, Sara arched herself against him, moaning softly.

He raised his eyes to watch her face as he slowly opened the soft, plump folds of her intimacy, gently moving, easing slowly, caressing sensitive flesh against flesh. His own desire reached a critical point and just as Sara's body began convulsing around his, he made a triumphant groan.

A while later, Grissom tightened his arm around his wife, assuring himself she was still tucked beside him. She was where she was supposed to be; the slight swell of her abdomen cuddled against his belly as her long, shapely leg draped over his. His fingers cupped her rounded breast, slightly larger, definitely more tender than usual.

Savoring the simple pleasure of their intimacy, knowing the profound love given and shared, gave him a deep sense of satisfaction. Tucking bedcovers around them, he was content to remain in bed as long as Sara could sleep—which he knew would not be long.

…It was almost noon when they left the physician's office; both had what each considered a silly grin plastered across their faces. Sara's hands were holding multiple papers; Grissom's arm was around her shoulders.

As Grissom opened the car door for Sara, she was the first to speak, "It's very real, isn't it?"

He chuckled, "We are going to be parents."

In a voice that reflected her tumultuous emotions, Sara said, "Two, Gil. Two—we knew this—we knew it, but to see two little forms…"

He kissed her simply because he could not form words. In the beginning, just weeks after pregnancy tests, several of them, had been positive, their physician had hinted at the possibility that both embryos had successfully survived. A few weeks later, an ultrasound clearly showed one fetus but a faint shadow indicated another might be there which meant more tests.

They were so thrilled to have one successful embryo that neither dared to think there might be two; so they had waited. Then more ultrasounds, more testing, and the fertility specialist confirmed two little Grissom babies were growing.

Sara held her breath—there had been so many disappointments and unsuccessful attempts—and decided no announcement until the most likely time of miscarriage had passed; they set a date and, with mutual agreement, decided only two other people would know—Sara's supervisor and Grissom's mother, until more time passed.

In the quietness of their home, they chose not to make plans for babies, not to talk of names or gender, because there was the chance of a negative outcome—a loss that would break their hearts, that would be too difficult to share. Years before, when their plans of having a family were easy and carefree, because they thought a family would be straightforward and uncomplicated, Sara had decided she would not work after a baby came.

Grissom had been thrilled with her decision; his mother had been a stay-at-home mom until he was in middle school, but he did not want to push his own thoughts onto Sara.

He broke the kiss; holding Sara close, he whispered, "We're going to be parents, Sara!"

"Two," Sara's voice broke as she buried her face against his shoulder.

Grissom wrapped arms around his wife making no attempt to dissuade her from her crying. He had learned many things over the years; one was how emotional Sara could be—and for weeks she had maintained an almost stoic endurance, patient and uncomplaining. He managed to reach his handkerchief and bring it to her face.

As he wiped tears, he said, "I think these are happy tears, right."

She nodded and sobbed again, mumbling, "Sorry—I need a minute."

Softly, he laughed. "Can you get in the car?" He kissed her again when she nodded. "And we'll go get a milkshake—strawberry? Or what about a mango milkshake?"

Sara managed a nod, wiped her nose with the handkerchief, and got into the car.

The milkshake worked—restoring Sara's smile and her innate curiosity.

"Twins, Gil—after all this time! Healthy, perfect, five fingers on each hand, ten toes for each, perfect little spinal columns," she managed to laugh. "There is so much to know—so much more than we already know! I mean—we've been so wrapped up in the conception process that we haven't—I haven't—spent much time learning about—about an actual baby." Her forehead puckered as her lips pursed in thought. "We'll need a place for them to sleep—near us. I don't want to put them across the house."

Grissom patted her thigh, saying, "We'll work everything out—if you want little Pea and tiny Bean to be in the bed with us—they will be."

"Oh, no, not in the bed—we're not supposed to sleep with infants."

He chuckled, "I thought you had not learned much about babies!"

Sara smiled and said, "I do know some things." She made a loud slurping noise with her straw as she finished off the milkshake. Then she exhaled a long, loud sigh. "We need to stop by the grocery store and get something for our guests."

Pressing the start button, Grissom laughed. "We'll be fine, Sara. All of us."

After a quick trip into the grocery store where Sara purchased several pre-prepared items, they made it home well before the appointed time of Adam and Brianna's arrival. Grissom made a cleaning sweep of the living room while Sara worked in the kitchen. She had time to change into a fresh shirt and comb her hair when Grissom found her studying her reflection in the mirror.

"You look beautiful," he said.

Sara frowned, "I want Brenda—Brianna to remember me. Do you think I've changed?"

"No! Except you are more beautiful," he grinned as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "And not quite as thin—you know you won't be able to hide this much longer." He patted her abdomen.

Smiling, Sara nodded. "Do you still want an announcement party?"

A crooked grin crossed Grissom's face. "Jim knows, Greg and D.B. know—you should tell Nick and I'll tell Catherine when I talk to her about Lindsey. So that leaves—what—the rest of the lab, the detectives, a few from the university. We'll make it a cook-out, invite everyone." He grinned again. "Even my mother will come!"

"You're excited about this."

Grissom took her face in his hands, gently caressing it with his thumbs. "Yes, I'm officially excited—we've waited a long time for this. And now we get a double celebration! And, dear wife, you can be excited too! We've finally succeeded. You are healthy—the babies are healthy!"

Sara kissed him; putting her arms around his neck as he embraced her. When his teeth nibbled her ear, Sara giggled softly.

"Company—we have guests coming," she said.

Promptly, at two o'clock, the door bell rang and Sara raced across the room to open the door. She barely took in the bouquet of flowers handed to her as she welcomed the young couple into her home.

Smiles, nervous grins appeared on three faces as Sara shook hands, first with Brianna, then with Adam, and turning again to Brianna.

Sara took Brenda—Brianna's hand. The two women, mirror opposites in appearance, both smiling, stood for a long moment studying each other, recalled memories playing across faces.

Grissom realized the two women were actually gripping hands; he stepped forward and took the flowers from Sara. The exchange seemed to break a spell.

Sara said, "Come in—come in!" A few seconds of hesitation and then Brianna stepped forward, as did Sara and the two women embraced, awkward at first, then both were laughing and hugging each other.

"It's been so long!"

"You are exactly as I remember—only not as tall!"

"And you are a young woman!"

"I feel like I'm in a dream! A good dream!"

Slowly, the two women moved to the living room; Grissom returned with flowers in a vase and a beer for Adam.

Sara was beaming, he noticed, and Brianna, too, as each woman studied the other. He wanted the two young people to be comfortable—and he wanted to talk with Adam.

_A/N: Sara meets Brenda Collins after all these years! Only in fanfiction! Thanks for reading! Review and next chapter will arrive very quickly! Yes, its a bribe! _


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thanks for reading and your reviews-another chapter!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 14**

Nervous and reluctant at first, conversation consisted of simple questions and answers about weather, health, and ongoing education.

"Tell me about yourself," Sara said to Brianna.

Waving a hand, the young girl said, "Oh, we should talk about Adam!"

Grissom assured her there was plenty of time.

Brianna smiled and twisted her hands; Adam reached over and took her hand. Slowly, she began to talk. Her aunt—her grandmother's sister—had taken her away from Vegas. After being appointed Brenda's guardian, her aunt had changed Brenda's name to Brianna and had immersed the child in therapy by some of the best experts in child trauma in the world. When Brianna saw the glance between Sara and Grissom, she added:

"Oklahoma City—the bombing—remember?" And then picked up her narrative of a childhood in nearby Henderson where her grandmother had retired. Brianna entered elementary school and never looked back. "I had two loving adults taking care of me! I was a Girl Scout, I learned to play the piano—not very well," she laughed.

She continued telling stories of her life, chattering away, with a trace of pride in her accomplishments, of her aunt and grandmother, of learning French in high school and being rewarded with a trip to Paris. She spoke confidently, pleasantly, and occasionally stopped to answer a question from Sara or Grissom.

"And now I'm a nursing student—decided I wanted to be a nurse when I was fifteen!"

Adam had been quiet, but supportive during Brianna's narrative, adding to the conversation when appropriate or once correcting the sequence of events she told.

"We have food—another beer, Adam? Brianna, what would you like?" Grissom asked as he stood and walked toward the kitchen.

The two visitors followed and, as chips and dips, a platter of vegetables, and a plate of cookies were placed on the table, the four talked of weather and sports, housing problems and shopping centers.

Eventually, Adam brought up his parents, asking, "Have you learned anything? I know it hasn't been long enough—but I thought—since you called?"

Immediately, Grissom said, "I can tell you a few things—but first, I want reassurance from you—that—that you want to know everything I've learned. Sometimes, the truth is not what one expects or wants to hear. I can tell you what we've learned from a couple of neighbors." He left the table, returning a few minutes later with the yellow folder. He pulled the photographs out and placed them on the table. "These came from your old neighbor."

As Adam studied each photo, Grissom related what the three neighbors had said about Adam and his parents.

"I want the truth," said Adam. "I can handle the truth—whatever you learn, I want to know." His bright eyes moved to Sara and Brianna before returning to look at Grissom. "You think there is more—you've learned something else."

Grissom said, "I don't know—I can't prove anything—but I have reason to believe that there might have been something else going on. The police are reliable and they put together the evidence—obvious facts—and thought it could be nothing else but a double suicide."

"But they never knew the cause—why they did it—that's what you mean?"

Nodding, Grissom continued, "I think there might be something very—distressing to learn about your family."

"I want to know—it's weird not to know anything. Brianna and I tried to find out but haven't been very successful. Everything comes back to the double suicides—two deaths—but not their lives." He looked again at the photos, turning them between his fingers. "I asked you to find out whatever you could—so tell me all of it."

Again, Grissom nodded. He motioned to living room, saying, "Let's talk. Tell me everything you can remember about your parents and about your aunt—your mother's sister."

The men moved away from the table, sitting in chairs facing each other, Grissom said, "Your aunt came for a visit right around the time you went to camp. Do you know she died a few days later?"

Adam said, "I didn't know at the time. I think my grandmother told me my aunt had died and she—my grandmother—was my only living relative—I didn't know my aunt except that she was my mother's sister—twins—and she would come to visit in the summer for a few days." He shook his head, "I never really knew her, but I was a kid—running around with my buddies and my dog!"

Grissom asked, "Did she give you birthday gifts? Pay special attention to you?"

Brianna and Sara joined them, sitting on the sofa, where Sara reached for her notebook.

Brianna said, "Oh, you have notes! I want to hear what you think!"

Softly laughing, Sara said, "I'm just taking notes—we did visit Adam's old neighborhood."

"We drove around that neighborhood—he couldn't decide which house he lived in!"

Grissom cleared his throat and both women made an almost identical expression of biting a lip as they stifled a laugh.

"Adam has the floor," Grissom said, lifting an eyebrow.

Thoughtfully, the young man studied the photos as he said, "I've never seen these! I never realized my mom and my aunt looked so much alike! I don't remember that much about my aunt—I don't remember any gifts but then I don't think kids remember a lot of gifts unless it is something special. I don't even remember where my aunt lived—I'm fairly sure we never went to visit her."

He passed the photographs to Brianna who made a little squeal when she saw a very young Adam. Whispering, she said to Sara, "Isn't he a cute little boy?"

Quietly agreeing, again stifling a giggle, Sara nodded her head. Both women glanced at Grissom as if he were a third grade teacher ready to scold naughty students. His attempt to ignore the women caused Adam to snort a laugh.

"She's like that, Dr. Grissom. I swear she can make me laugh about road kill."

Hearing Adam's comment, Grissom chuckled. "Tell me about your parents—anything you can remember."

Adam leaned back into the chair; his hand wiped across his young face, his forehead puckered. "I can remember his smell—he smelled of ink—I don't think ink smells, but I always thought it did. My father ran a print shop and I'd go there and draw on paper—long pieces of paper he'd tape to the wall. Once I drew a big picture of—of a lake with fish in it and people standing around the edge," suddenly he laughed, "I think it was from Sunday school—the story of the loaves and fishes—and I drew these orange portable-potties off to one side. My dad thought that was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. That drawing stayed on the wall for weeks—for a long time—and he'd brag about me being a genius!"

Grissom interrupted, "You went to church?"

Adam nodded. "Presbyterian on—on—its right around the corner from where we lived—I think it's on Jefferson or Madison. But when I went to live with my grandmother, we went to another church."

Grissom noticed Sara was taking notes.

Adam continued, saying, "My mother," he smiled, "my mother was always happy, smiling—I never remember her being sad. She would sing around the house—that's what I remember, Dr. Grissom. She was a happy person. She and I would eat breakfast cereal—the chocolate kind—it turned milk chocolate—sitting by the window. I can remember thinking the best time of day was getting home from school and my mom would be there. They took me to camp that summer—my mom and dad—not my aunt—and my mom promised to take care of my dog."

"What happened to the dog?" asked Sara.

"He was at my grandmother's. I—I don't remember going back to the house after my parents died." Again, his hand passed over his face. "The last time I saw my parents was the day they visited camp—I think it was the week before they died. They seemed the same—my mom had a new haircut and I noticed that, but we were playing games and showing off. The parents were there to see what we did and I—I can't imagine why they did it—I was playing with friends and none of us were paying much attention to the parents.

"Later, after I went to live with my grandmother, she made sure I visited a psychologist and talked about my parents—but" Adam smiled easily, "It wasn't a traumatic thing—my parents were gone, I lived with my grandmother, and grew up in her house." He nodded toward Brianna, "When we met, I think we formed a pretty quick bond because neither one of us had parents—does that make sense?"

Grissom, realizing he did not know, asked, "Is your grandmother still living?"

"No," Adam shook his head. "She died several years ago—moved to a retirement community." Softly laughing, he said, "She said I wore her out so when I went to college, she sold the house and moved into an apartment and two years later, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died in her sleep a few months later."

Then Sara asked, "Your grandmother was your father's mother, right?"

Nodding, Adam said, "I don't remember my other grandparents—I think they died when I was young—maybe before I was born."

"And there are no other relatives that you know of?" asked Grissom.

Brianna spoke, her musical laughter edging her words, "He is truly an orphan, Dr. Grissom. I'm his oldest friend—his bride will have no problems with in-laws!"

Softly, Adam laughed.

Grissom got up, retrieved the file Jim Brass had gotten, and held it out to Adam. "We've found some information about your aunt—it's not good and I think it explains why you didn't know much about your aunt."

Brianna leaned forward, but said nothing as Adam opened the file and began to read.

_A/N: Finally, Sara and Brianna meet-thank you for reading! More to come!_


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Sorry for the delay! Enjoy!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 15 **

"Wow," Brianna whispered as she finished the last page and handed it back to Adam. The young woman shook her head saying, "I've only had two classes in mental health nursing, but this woman was seriously sick."

"Yes," agreed Grissom, continuing with, "mental health has many methods of treatment. It would appear that your aunt's condition—and her physicians decided—improved enough so that she could visit her sister." Grissom turned to address Adam. "Since you don't remember many visits from your aunt, there were probably two or three and I think your parents deliberately sent you to camp when Holly came to visit."

Adam said, "That makes sense. I went to summer camp for the first time when I was seven. Loved it—begged to return!" Quickly, his face grew serious. "But would my aunt be crazy and allowed to travel? How crazy was she?" He shook his head, confused by what he had read. "She and my mother were twins but I never thought my mother was nuts—does a child know that?"

"Oh, yes," Sara said quietly.

Grissom reached for a book on a nearby shelf. "Here's a textbook on—on conditions like this. Sometimes there is no known cause or reason; other times it may be a traumatic event that—that causes…"

"A woman to throw her baby into a river?" Brianna asked. Her soft amazement caused Adam to smile. "I'm pretty sure Adam has never pushed anyone into a pond or thrown anything—living or dead—into a river."

Seriously, Grissom said, "You know your mother and your aunt were identical twins."

Adam nodded. "I don't think I knew until I saw these photos."

Grissom reached for the thin folder on Holly Wicker's death. "Your aunt—according to this—fell from a cliff at Red Rocks while trying to take photographs. She was on a hike with your parents—by the time help arrived, she was dead."

"There was no doubt she fell?"

Shaking his head, Grissom said, "Your parents were the only witnesses—by the time others got there, your father had tried to help, had climbed down to her—she lived for a short time. Your mother was extremely upset—she required sedation—but no one thought it was anything but an accident." Pausing a few seconds, Grissom looked at Adam, saying "Do you know where I'm going with this? Red Rocks is a federal land management area—it has its own law enforcement officers and for most falls, no one else is called in. The coroner does a preliminary look and if nothing stands out—that's it. Accidents happen."

Adam shook his head, asking, "You believe my parents—my mother—pushed her sister?"

"No—no," Grissom answered. "Not that at all." Quickly, he reached for the yellow file containing the information about Adam's parents. He flipped through the pages, finding one and removing it. Pointing to a short paragraph, he said "Your mother had a recent bite mark on her leg. Probably a dog bite according to the coroner's report. Do you think your dog would have bitten your mother?"

Slowly, Adam shook his head. "Bingo loved my mom. He—he loved everyone." The young man's hand raked across his face. "But he didn't like my aunt—I don't think she liked dogs." His eyes grew wide as his thoughts coalesced. "My aunt—it was my aunt!"

Sara took an audible breath; Brianna, seconds later, reached the same conclusion.

"Holly became Polly," Sara whispered.

"We can never prove it," Grissom said.

Adam whispered, "They were happy! I knew they didn't want to die!"

Grissom said, "Certain things don't add up. The flowers died—according to the neighbor. Your mother cut her hair—the neighbor noticed it and you noticed it—the photos show Holly with shorter hair. No suicide note was ever found. The dog bite adds to those things that taken one at a time don't mean anything, but hearing them now..."

"My dad had to know! Why didn't he—why didn't he tell?"

A slight shake of his head from Grissom. "We'll never know." A full minute of silence followed before he said, "I hate to guess but I'll speculate —I think your mother—while she was still conscious—made your father promise—who knows—maybe to take her sister back to the place in Denver. They were twins—identical twins—there are studies with twins that show a—a remarkable connection between twins, and your mother knew her sister was very ill."

Again, silence filled the room for several minutes.

Adam, his face moving through unspoken emotions, said, "My grandmother would tell me—for years afterwards—she'd say 'Your parents loved you very much' and for years, I would think 'I love them' but they died and I didn't. I didn't linger or brood about it—it was a fact of my life. As I got older, I'd think about why they did it—but again, I didn't dwell on it—it wasn't something I could change. I didn't remember enough about my aunt to even think she played a role in their deaths."

Sweeping a hand across his face, Adam was quiet. Finally, he said, "Now, I think my grandmother probably knew—or at least suspected something. When she was very ill, she tried to talk about my father—how good he was and how much he loved us—her mind was wandering in the past talking about old times—I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn't ask questions—what good would it have done?"

Grissom closed the file in his hands. He said, "There is no way to know what happened—I don't believe your father was a violent man. Perhaps when Holly learned he was going to take her back to Colorado, she decided to kill him and then killed herself. I'd think that likely but it's something we'll never know."

When quietness descended again, it was Brianna who broke the silence. She said, "It's so much more than we knew—or even thought about." She glanced at Adam and then looked at Grissom. "It wouldn't do to dig them up—like you could tell by DNA or fingerprints—because identical twins have the same DNA." She reached for Adam's hand saying, "I think your dad was a brave man, Adam. For eighteen days, he lived with his wife's twin—the person who killed the woman he loved—probably trying to decide what he could do. Your mother tried to keep you safe and tried to give her sister some—some kind of normal life by letting her visit. But I suppose it was hopeless." She leaned over and kissed Adam's cheek; he smiled and took her hand.

"If it had not been for you—and finding Dr. Grissom, we wouldn't know this much—and I think it's a lot more than I ever thought I'd know."

Smiling, Grissom said, "I think the neighbors, Mrs. Barnes and the Simons would enjoy seeing you again. They have fond memories of you and your parents."

Adam turned, "Thank you, Dr. Grissom. Brianna kept saying you would help us." The young man smiled again. "I don't think we'll worry about what happened—we'll accept your explanation. It makes sense—my parents loved each other. We were a happy family but we—Brianna and I—can't change history—we can't go back and change lives, can we?" Adam paused for a few seconds as he looked at Brianna before saying, "We can't let what our parents—and others—did shape the way we live."

"No," agreed Grissom.

Brianna rose from the sofa, came to Adam's side and hugged him. "Let's not worry about it anymore. What they did can't follow us around like a dark cloud. We've got our own lives."

Adam laughed, softly saying, "I really do love you. I think, Brianna, we should get married."

Surprised, Sara and Grissom looked at each other as Brianna laughed, gently, melodious, and Grissom thought of music.

"We can—I'll have a good paying job in a few months!" Adam said. When Brianna kissed him again, he asked, "Is that a yes?"

"No! It's a maybe! I want to finish nursing school." Brianna laughed again as Adam frowned. "You know how much it means to me—and to my aunt and grandmother! They love you to pieces—and I'll think about it!"

Grissom stood; reaching for Sara, he said, "Get married—if you love each other. We waited too long—we should have married years before we did!"

Sara leaned into him, laughing, as she said, "We married at the right time."

After several minutes of comfortable lighthearted talk, files and folders closed and stacked, Sara invited them to stay for dinner, saying, "It won't be anything special—you may want to celebrate without the company of us."

Adam was the first to laugh, "She hasn't said yes yet—and yes, I—I" he looked at Brianna who nodded, "We would like that!"

When Sara and Brianna headed to the kitchen, Adam said, "What if I go get dessert? Something special—do you know the French bakery on South Rainbow? Brianna loves anything from there—would you like to go? I'll drive."

Quickly plans were made; Sara suggested a menu that included homemade bean soup, salad, and pasta with sauce and, she suggested, if the men would pick up bread as well as dessert, dinner would be quick, easy and plentiful.

The two men left in Adam's late model Toyota. Immediately, the two women established a common topic when Sara asked about Brianna about her trip to Paris. A few minutes later, they were laughing as they stumbled with recalling words and phrases in French. Moving on to favorite places—museums in Paris kept them talking until the men returned and then Brianna spoke French to Grissom who had a much better linguistic tongue than Sara.

While the two carried on a conversation that moved beyond museums and tourist attractions, Sara and Adam worked on final preparations for dinner.

Over dinner, the four talked of traveling—Adam had been to Mexico and Canada but quickly established an exceptional knowledge of current financial problems in Europe. Brianna had plans to return to Europe—see more than she had seen on her trip to France—to see Italy and Spain. Grissom and Sara added several favorite places in Italy, visited when they had traveled to a forensic anthropology conference in Florence. They talked of other places the young couple wanted to visit, of history and culture, of food—cheeses, breads, and wine.

By the time Grissom refilled wine glasses for he and Adam, they were eating desserts—slices of strawberry Savarin, meringues with cream and mixed fruits, an apricot and blueberry tart, and small chocolate pots de crème.

"More water?" Grissom asked Sara. Brianna, who had opted for diet soda with dinner, asked for water and he filled a glass for her.

"This is so delicious," Brianna said, moaning as she scooped another bite of chocolate. "I'm so full now I can't move."

Adam agreed as he scraped his spoon around his plate.

Suddenly, Brianna looked at Sara, a quizzical expression on her face. The young woman smiled and asked, "Are you pregnant?"

Quickly, Sara's eyes glanced to Grissom and back to Brianna who said, "You haven't touched a drop of wine! They've gone through two bottles and you've been drinking water—a sure sign in maternity nursing!" When neither Sara nor Grissom said anything, she continued, "I'm doing maternity clinics now and we stress 'no alcohol' to all the pregnant women—am I right?"

Grissom started laughing.

Straightening her shoulders and throwing her head back as she laughed, Sara said, "Why, yes, I do believe I am, Brianna." Reaching over, she plucked a blueberry from the remains of the tart. "I'm twenty weeks and expecting twins—healthy babies and a healthy pregnancy—for someone my age. And you are the first people to hear me say all of that!"

Getting up from the table, Grissom reached far back into the wine cabinet and brought out an expensive bottle of Hennessy Cognac. The bottle was almost full. He searched the cabinet and found four small tulip wine glasses.

"A celebration—for more than one reason," he said, placing the bottle and glasses on the table. "And even the mom-to-be can taste." He poured a scant spoon full in one glass and handed it to Sara; to the other glasses, he poured a little more.

Brianna lifted her glass, asking, "What do we do now—swirl or smell?"

Grissom demonstrated how to warm the glass and liquid, look at its reflection—a dark amber—and smell its aroma.

When satisfied the two young people knew how to appreciate the liquor, they clinked glasses, laughing and expressing congratulations and best wishes and "to the future". Brianna and Adam lightly touched the liquid with their tongues before tasting it, nodding in agreement.

"Honey-ish," Brianna said after swallowing her first sip.

"And a woodsy licorice," added Adam. He smiled, "I've had cheap cognac and this isn't cheap."

At ease with each other, the four finished the desserts, drank pure water, and talked about the university, gossiped about various departments on campus and expressed thoughts and ideas ranging from parking to athletics.

Of suicides, dead parents, murders and related issues, not one word was uttered.

_A/N: So much in this chapter! What do you think happened? Some of you had already figured it out! Thank you for reading-and as always, we appreciate hearing from you!_


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Thank you for reading! _

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 16 **

As Sara tugged a sock on her foot, she glanced at her husband who was changing his shirt for the third time in as many minutes.

"It's Catherine—she will not care what you wear! The red one looks nice."

Grissom reached for the red shirt. He said, "I know, but I don't want her fussing about what I'm wearing before we get around to Lindsey!"

Sara laughed, saying, "Where are you meeting her?"

"She's coming to campus—taking her for a gourmet prepared lunch at the culinary school." He tilted his head to one side. "Come with me."

Sara shook her head. "No way—you said you would talk to her, not me," said Sara. "Besides, I don't think Catherine wants advice from me about her daughter!"

Grissom buttoned up his shirt and adjusted his pants. "How do I look?"

Attempting to keep her face straight as she thought 'How many times does he worry about his appearance?', Sara rose from the bed and slowly circled her husband. She smoothed a non-existence wrinkle from his shoulder, kept her hand there and wrapped arms around his neck. "You look handsome—straight out of—out of _Gentlemen's Quarterly_." She kissed him. "Are you going to tell her the news?"

"Yes, I am. After the talk about Lindsey."

Sara lifted her eyebrows. "Good luck, dear. I'm hitting the bed."

"Stay in bed until I get back—or at least keep your feet up."

"You read too much—you worry too much."

Grissom laughed, saying, "Like you don't! How many books are at your bedside?" He pointed to a stack of five or six books. "And sleep—don't read."

For several days, Sara had been working a "reduced schedule" as per her supervisor's plan to keep her working for a few more weeks. So she crawled back in bed before Grissom left the bedroom and before he closed the front door, she was asleep.

As he drove to the university campus, Grissom could not help but let his thoughts roam. He and Sara had invited Nick to dinner and announced their news. Nick's eyes had glistened as he offered congratulations and tears had stained his face when Sara added the rest of her news.

Grissom sighed loudly as he stopped at a traffic light. He already knew Catherine was not going to take his suggestions well. She had sent Lindsey away from Vegas to separate the girl from influences and pressures that might come from Catherine's father's friends. Sam Braun had been dead for years, but his name, his associates and his money continued to carry power in nearly every level of Las Vegas. He should know—Catherine had provided a generous unencumbered endowment to the biology department after he had taken a position at the university. And there was more money waiting to drop into any venture Catherine thought worthy.

Grissom chuckled; to have such problems was not in the future for ninety-nine percent of the rest of the world's population.

Pulling into the faculty parking area, he found a space, and in ten minutes was opening the door of his office. A small white note taped to the door was an update from Adam Spencer. He and Brianna had spent an afternoon visiting his old neighbors, updating them on his life, and telling them of Grissom's theory.

"_They were delighted their memories might have helped you!" _Adam had written before signing his name.

Tucking the note into his pocket as his phone chirped, he checked his message. Catherine had arrived on campus. Quickly, he opened his office and did a five minute cleaning before he heard the tattoo of heels in the hallway announcing the arrival of his old friend and colleague, Catherine Willows.

He stepped into the hall, smiling as he stuck hands in his pockets and slowly rocked back on his heels. After all the years, Catherine looked the same—better, he thought, because she was spending some of Sam's money on herself. As always, her clothes fit her shapely figure; her hair, her nails, her bag were all coordinated.

Grissom wished the professor next door was in his office to see the arrival of Catherine; she was not the usual visitor for their building.

Catherine's voice echoed in the empty hallway as she said, "There you are! And looking good!"

A smile spread across his face as he watched Catherine approach; he returned her hug and spread an arm toward his office, saying, "Come in!" As always, you look great!"

"I work on this look—constantly!"

He asked about her recent trip. She was surprised he knew she had been out-of-town.

Catherine asked about Sara; he answered simply and moved on to the topic of lunch.

"We are eating in the culinary dining room—have no idea what we are eating, but thought you'd enjoy the experience. Let's walk across campus." He looked at her shoes, asking, "Are you able to walk in those?"

Catherine scoffed, saying, "I could beat you in a foot race wearing these!"

As they walked underneath the shade of some of the oldest trees in Las Vegas, Grissom told her about Brenda Collins and Adam Spencer.

"I remember the case—but I don't remember the little girl," Catherine said.

Grissom answered, "You worked the case and Sara went with Brenda—and Brenda—Brianna now—her grandmother changed her name—remembered Sara."

"And she's okay—that was a horrible case—the older girl had been sexually abused for years, if I remember correctly."

"But Brenda—Brianna came out of it—miracles do happen," he chuckled. "Or great care."

They continued to talk as they walked; both marveling at the survival of the row of trees planted when the university consisted of two or three small buildings.

And very quietly, just as they reached the culinary building, Grissom managed to insert: "We saw Lindsey recently."

Catherine's face turned upward; the word "What?" came out a little too harshly.

People were crowded around the entrance to the dining room, waiting to be seated. Grissom took Catherine's elbow as they stepped forward; at least she did not bolt, he thought.

As they stepped inside, a student asked for the name on the reservation; Grissom replied. Very formally, they were shown to a table where another student announced the menu and explained the type of service for the meal.

By the time they were alone, Catherine had caught her breath and calmed her voice enough to ask, "When did you see Lindsey? While I was away, she left me several messages saying she wanted to come home which is nonsense because she's finishing the semester—and now, from what you say, she must have come anyway!" Catherine's hands fluttered the napkin across her lap.

"Gil, you cannot imagine the—the grief Lindsey gives me! She thinks she's grown—and then she does something like this—flies home when I'm not here! Where'd she stay? Oh, God, I hope it wasn't at the casino hotel—a few of those old guys know her and treat her just like Sam always did. She can't do anything wrong or stupid or childish in their eyes!"

"She stayed with us."

Catherine's eyes widened in surprise. "With you and Sara?"

Grissom nodded. "She's a wonderful young lady, Catherine."

"Not you, too?" Catherine almost hissed.

Their waiter approached, asking for beverage preferences, and disappeared.

With a huff, Catherine continued, "Is this the reason for lunch?"

Grinning, Grissom said, "Actually, there are several reasons. I want to show you around the biology lab—show you what your money has provided. And yes, I want to talk about Lindsey—and something else."

Beverages and salads arrived at the table, suspending their conversation for several minutes as the student waiter explained what was in the salad.

Immediately, Grissom tucked into the salad. Catherine did not even pick up her fork.

She said, "What? Say what you want about Lindsey! I'm sure she said plenty about my faults and mis-guided attempt at parenting!"

"Eat first," Grissom said, pointing to her fork. "Lindsey was very positive when she spoke of you." At least she had been on her way to the airport, he thought. He took a few bites of his salad and pushed the plate away.

He said, "Lindsey wants to come back here and finish her degree at the university." When Catherine started to protest, he held up his hand. "Let me finish—she visited the school of education and talked to one of the professors about getting her degree in education. She's smart, Catherine. Let her have her own life."

"Education? To teach? I can't see Lindsey teaching anything! Did she also tell you that she's attended two colleges? Spent a year in Europe as an 'art major' and then decided she'd major in music management or something like that." Catherine's fork came up as she used it to point at Grissom. "Remember her father? Good grief—all the—you know all of it, Gil! I don't want Lindsey going down the same path as her father!"

Slowly, Grissom picked up his fork and pulled the salad back in front of him. He said, "Catherine, Lindsey is nothing like Eddie." He motioned to Catherine. "Eat—it's really good and we don't want to offend the students."

Catherine's response was to make as exasperated groan, but she did take another bite.

As she chewed, Grissom continued, "Lindsey wants to come back to Vegas—she'll do fine." He grinned. "She's got too much of her mother in her to do otherwise. She fixed dinner for us one night—suggested she cook and did a great job of it. She's an adult, Catherine."

When Catherine started to protest, he added, "What were you doing at her age? You had to be an adult—she wants to be an adult. Let her grow up—answer her own questions. Make her own mistakes."

Their waiter returned, removed salad plates, and, in a few minutes, explained the next course in meticulous detail; Grissom noticed the young man's shaking hands. When he left, Grissom said:

"Lindsey thinks she wants to teach—let her give it a try."

Catherine tossed her head, sighed, rolled her eyes, and flashed a sarcastic smile, "Gil, what do you know about raising a child?"

Grissom smiled. "As a matter of fact, I'm trying to learn." He paused long enough for Catherine to realize he had more to say.

In that moment, the waiter arrived with plates of hot chicken, rice, and carrots—repeating the culinary descriptions of each food on the plate—but for Catherine, he could have been speaking a foreign language and serving chicken wings on a paper napkin.

Grissom thanked the young man and, turning to Catherine, he presented a lopsided smile and finished his sentence, saying, "Because in a few months, we're going to be parents."

_A/N: More to come! Thank you for reading, thank you for your reviews and comments! This story will be 20 chapters, so a few more to come..._


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Thank you for reading and commenting on our little fluff filled fiction!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 17 **

Catherine's jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. Casually, Grissom picked up his fork and knife and started on the roasted chicken. He knew he had never been in Catherine's presence with such an extended silence.

"Eat," he said, pointing to her plate. The smile on his face grew.

It took at least two long minutes for Catherine to recover. She whispered, "Sara is having a baby?"

Grissom chewed on his chicken and nodded.

"After all this time—I thought—I thought—well, I guess I thought it wasn't in the cards—you didn't want kids or waited too long—or—or…"

The smile on his face would not go away; he said, "Actually, we are having twins—and it has taken a long time—it did not happen in the usual way. Not with silk sheets and candles but with hormone injections, egg retrieval, IVF, and ICSI." He noticed Catherine's mouth was open again. "Now that Sara's passed the critical time, we're telling our friends."

"Twins? Two?" Recovering, Catherine made a quiet chuckle, saying, "Well, this is something—Gil Grissom is going to be a father. I am—stunned—overwhelmed—surprised—speechless! Sara's okay?"

Nodding, Grissom said, "She is fine—goes every week for a check-up and other than general exhaustion, she is doing well."

"How old is Sara? How old are you?" Catherine asked and then, picking up her fork, said, "Never mind, I know how old both of you are." Softly, she laughed again, saying, "Now, I've got a reason to grow old—to see you with teenagers!"

The rest of the meal passed easily.

The two old friends found much to discuss—much of their conversation covered what had happened over nearly two decades of friendship. Spontaneously, they could laugh at certain events as they talked about the lab and Las Vegas and crime. Grissom talked about his research; Catherine spoke with enthusiasm about her recent trip.

After an excellent lunch, they returned to the biology building and Grissom showed Catherine where her money had been spent—thermal cyclers and imaging systems, bio-safety cabinets, projectors and cameras—replacing some equipment that was older than the students.

"It really has made a huge difference, Catherine. Everyone would like to meet the person responsible. All you have to do is say the word."

"No, Gil, I want it to be from the foundation—and a few people in Vegas don't know who I am—which is fine with me."

They finished a tour of the labs, returning to Grissom's office where he said, "Sit down—we have something—someone else to discuss."

Confusion crossed Catherine's face. She took the offered chair and Grissom sat facing her. Sudden concern in her voice, she said, "Okay—who? From the lab?"

Grissom waited a minute before speaking, "Lindsey introduced us to Sean."

Catherine stared at him with a combination of curiosity and disbelief; she twisted in the chair and closed her eyes.

"He's a smart young man, Catherine."

For several minutes, Catherine remained silent. Grissom did not know if she was going to explode or fold within herself; he noticed her breathing—irregular. The muscles around her jaw tensed and relaxed several times. Finally, she nodded, so quickly, so slight, that if he had not been watching he would have never seen it.

When Catherine finally spoke, her voice was soft and controlled; her eyes had hardened to a steel blue, a color Grissom had not seen in years.

She said, "I know about this boy—more than Lindsey thinks. Don't give me that—that Grissom look! Of course I checked him out! He's—he's probably a nice kid. Smart, yes—but I want more than smart for Lindsey, Gil! I want her to have what I never had—do things I never did! Not have to experience adult problems like I did!"

Grissom leaned forward, saying, "Catherine, you can't live her life! Do what you want to do—but don't ask or expect Lindsey to live the life you want."

"They want to get married, Gil!" Her voice was a hoarse whisper but Grissom caught the slight waver.

He smiled. "Well, let them work it out! They are not the first young couple who want to get married." Thoughtfully, he added, "I should have married Sara long before I did. So—let them talk—date—get engaged—get married!"

"Easy to say."

There was something sad and vulnerable in her expression, almost fragile, Grissom thought. Suddenly, he knew the reason. Catherine was afraid of the future.

"Lindsey has grown into a beautiful young woman, Catherine. You have every right to be immensely proud of her—and whatever she does!" Softly, he chuckled, saying, "She will never be Catherine Willows—the compelling woman who took off like a rocket and succeeded beyond everyone's expectations! Except mine, of course, I knew you were destined for greatness."

Catherine laughed. "Oh, Gil, what am I to do?"

Lifting his hand and pointing a finger in her direction, he said, "I have a plan!"

He explained what he wanted and in minutes, Catherine was laughing, back to her usual self, agreeing and adding ideas of her own. For another hour the two friends talked, moving easily from one topic to another, recalling events, happy and sad, conversing as long-time friends do.

When Catherine made to leave, Grissom got up as well and walked with her to the parking garage. He actually made the first move to hug her and she responded quickly.

"I do love you, Gil!" said Catherine, laughing as she kissed his cheek. "Tell Sara I'll call her—we have plans to make!" Her palm rested on his cheek. "You two will make great parents—and I can't wait to be in the middle of all of this!"

_A/N: Again, thank you for reading! A few more chapters coming up! _


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Enjoy!_

**Chapter 18**

It was the greatest party Catherine had ever given. Enough food for a small militia arrived in catering trucks. Another crew set up tables and chairs while florists brought in lush table arrangements of iris, lilies, daisies, and orchids. A small group arrived to set up their musical equipment. Two men were there to work as bartenders and more than a dozen waiters and waitress were there to serve food.

It seemed the entire lab and a large segment of the current and retired law enforcement employees in Clark County had responded to the invitations and planned to show up at Catherine's home. Most believed it was a party honoring Gil Grissom—he had never had an official retirement party so they assumed the party was a late celebration of that event.

Catherine had insisted on handling arrangements with Sara selecting foods and doing little else. Sara had actually been relieved—the party was Grissom's idea—and she was secretly pleased to have Catherine take over. Even if it meant having more glitz and sparkle than anything Sara could imagine—and a live band. At least Grissom had suggested a small instrumental group from the college.

At the appointed time, Sara, Grissom, and Catherine stood near the entrance, welcoming everyone, directing guests to the beautiful patio. Grissom wore a pale blue shirt that coordinated well with the sapphire blue dress he had brought home to Sara.

"This is way too much, Gil!" She had said as he pulled the dress from its large box—prominently displaying the logo of a designer store.

"Catherine got it—said it was a gift—her words 'one long-time mother-to-a-new-mother-to-be'."

"Gil, this dress cost more than anything in my closet!"

"Try it on."

And once she put it on, the silk dress felt like cool flowing water with just enough ease in the front to skim over Sara's abdomen, falling to knee length. It felt as if it had been made for her.

"You are beautiful," Grissom whispered; he zipped the dress and turned her around to face him so he could kiss her.

They had arrived an hour before the party. Catherine was resplendent in exceedingly high heeled sandals and a dress that shimmered like a cluster of precious opals—blues, greens, magenta, and rose—in the late afternoon sun; Sara could only think of a Disney princess in the flesh—except Catherine was more a queen than any princess ever imagined.

And then so many people were coming in, greeting each other, laughing with friends, making it impossible to have any real conversation with anyone for nearly an hour. Sara thought of nothing else for a while. Old friends found one another; people broke into small groups or pairs. Music played. Appetizing food was served by a dozen young men and women.

Finally, when arriving guests slowed to a few stragglers, Sara wandered around the patio speaking to as many as she could. Jim Brass hugged her tightly, surrounded by a group of retired officers, as he boasted of Sara's brilliant career and the early days of her work in Vegas.

"I knew how smart she was from day-one!" He bragged. Sara, cheerfully teasing, said she knew it had taken longer than the first day for her brilliance to be known—maybe her second day, she suggested.

Sara managed to slip away a few minutes later when platters of food arrived and the older men immediately began searching for someone serving drinks.

"I'll send him over," Sara promised as she eased away from the group.

As the party seemed to reach a crescendo of conversations, Catherine managed to gather Grissom and Sara and moved them toward the center of the patio; a microphone appeared in her hands. The band played a few high-pitched notes that caused everyone to stop talking for a few seconds and Catherine spoke quickly.

"Dear friends!" Catherine said, holding up one arm. "Thank you for coming! It's about time we had a party for Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle Grissom. He retired without a party! They got married without a party! But, today—because they put me in charge of this party—you're here today for a very special announcement!"

Grissom leaned over and kissed Sara.

Catherine's arm dropped as a signal and the band began to play the beginning notes of a well-known melody; within seconds, nearly everyone on the patio recognized the tune of Brahms Lullaby. The few who did not recognize the song were quickly told and a sudden applause accompanied by cheerful shouts from D.B., Nick, Greg, Brass, and Doc Robbins rippled and swelled across the crowd as realization dawned.

Sara blushed; Grissom grinned so broadly a few who had known him for years thought his face might split. Neither had to say a word because as congratulations came from everyone, Catherine was the one who spread the rest of their news—not one baby, but two—one of each, a daughter and a son—expected date only four months away.

Quietly, to those who worked in the lab, who Sara had known and worked with for years, she let them know of her other plans—her resignation had already been given to D.B.

The party came alive again; more food was placed on tables, more wine, sparkling water, and tea poured, shrimp and artichokes dipped into garlic butter, skewers of roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, onions, and squash tumbled onto plates. Sweet fruits, creamy cheeses, and a dozen varieties of hot breads added to the moving feast as guests spread from the patio to the grass where a dozen long tables were placed.

Relaxing with their guests, Sara and Grissom moved from group to group, accepting best wishes, listening to delightfully told stories of babies, children, and teenagers. It was a cheerful and light-hearted afternoon and a considerable amount of genuine affection flowed as several people stood to make toasts—to Sara, to Grissom, to the expectant parents, to babies, and to Catherine.

Gradually, the party began to wind down. And, as they had done when guests arrived, Sara and Grissom were near the front door to thank everyone for coming. Finally, when only the clean-up crews remained, they thanked Catherine—profusely for her generosity and kindness.

"Perfect," Grissom said. "We will remember this forever, Catherine. And the way you made the announcement…"

Sara laughed, saying, "I'm so happy you did this—all of it—everything!"

Grissom glanced around at the dozens of people working in Catherine's house. He asked, "Is there anything we can do?"

"No! These guys will take care of everything." Catherine said and then turned to one of the women, saying, "Have you packed a box for these two?" When the woman gave an affirmative answer, Catherine said, "You two go home—a box of food goes with you." She hugged both of them. "Take care of each other."

Later, in their home, after they had put food away—enough for another party—Grissom noted, he led Sara into the bedroom and to the bed. When she sat on the edge and sighed, he bent down and took off her shoes; the flesh on her foot was marked by the buckle of the sandal. Gently, he caressed her feet between his hands and stretched from his kneeling position to kiss her.

"You should rest," he whispered as she placed her arms around his neck. His hand slipped under the skirt of her dress, stroking her leg, moving up until his fingers caressed her inner thigh.

A half-smile touched Sara's mouth. Swiftly, she rose, pulling him to his feet so they were facing each other. As she kissed her husband, he unzipped her dress and pushed it from her shoulders.

The expensive blue fabric lay in a swirl around her feet. When Grissom looked at her, he recognized desire and dark eyes brimming with longing—for him.

He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. His tongue slid across her bottom lip, and she did the same, opening her mouth to welcome him. He felt the rush of blood, arousal growing in his want for her.

Sara whispered, "Shower?"

His answer came as he back-walked her to their bathroom, keeping her body against his.

Together, they managed to turn on the shower, fumbled with buttons on his shirt until he could get it off, discarded shoes and socks, removed his pants, and tossed everything into a heap, all the while keeping hands on each other.

As warm water cascaded over their shoulders, he began to kiss her neck, her arms, her breasts. His tongue gently tantalized each nipple; his hands gently caressed her body as he tenderly moved from one breast to the other. He could feel her strong hands in his hair, smoothing, stroking, massaging his neck and shoulders.

After a few moments, he took her in his arms, holding her tightly against his body, his desire evident.

Sara stared at him, her eyes wide, "I want you," she said in a husky whisper.

"Here or bed?"

She lifted her leg and wrapped it around his thigh; a quiet giggle escaped. She said, "Here—we can use the bed later!"

Before he could stop himself, he was cupping her butt with both hands, lifting her against his hips, raising her up so he could slip into her core.

They had made love in the shower a hundred times, frantically, easily, recklessly, yet this time was different, almost serenely as he entered her, slowly, gently, compassionately, an over-riding desire of need that was insatiable.

"Sara," he whispered, dropping his head to her shoulder for a moment; he thought he would explode if he made a movement. His erection was enormous, achingly so. Desperately, he needed her.

"Yes," she whispered, clinching her body around his. "Yes, yes."

Her body moved, muscles tightened as she pressed hands against his back. She became welded to him, legs thrown around his back as high as they would go, so that he could push deeper into the warm, soft feminine center of her. They found their rhythm, moving faster until they were frenzied, panting as the water washed over their bodies.

Their mouths met and holding tightly to each other, they came to a climax together, sharing their ecstasy and joy in each other.

For several minutes, they held each other, using the walls of the shower for support.

"Now, to the bed," Sara said, followed by a quiet laugh as her husband lowered her so her feet touched the floor.

As they fell on the bed, his hands were all over her body, toweling her skin dry. Loving hands touched and caressed her with gentle care while both luxuriated in the knowledge that she loved him as much as he loved her.

Stretching her body, Sara took pleasure in the sense of satisfaction and fulfillment she felt. Grissom reached for bedcovers and covered both of them.

"Excellent party—astonishing sex," he said with a quiet chuckle. His palm moved across her belly. "I think these two have grown since yesterday."

Sara laughed. "It's weird, isn't it? For weeks, I didn't seem to have a noticeable belly—and in the past few weeks, suddenly," she laughed again. "Suddenly, I have this and I've gained eleven pounds!" Her hand went over his. "You know, in some ways, I feel the same—in another way, I know there is this vast change happening."

"You're pregnant—you are changing."

Smiling, she said, "I feel very much a woman."

Pushing up on an elbow so he could look down at her, Grissom said, "You've always been very much a woman—but I can imagine that pregnancy would make you feel like that."

"Actually, I feel," she laughed, "I feel very horny—all the time! I mean, I have to really concentrate not to—to jump your bones in the car! Or wake you up in the middle of the night! It's weird—but my doctor says it happens—pregnant women and raging hormones."

The tense, worried expression on Grissom's face disappeared; his laughter smoothed his face of concern. Rolling back on the bed, he laughed as he had not laughed in months. Years ago, he had been aware that they had an intimacy of heart, mind, and body, genuinely understood each other, and this compatibility gave them a closeness few people shared.

His laughter filled the air as he said, "Please, dear! Wake me in the middle of the night—call me at work and I'll come home! I know I'm going to love this pregnant state!"

_A/N: We appreciate you! Thank you for reading-last two chapters soon. Now, hit the 'review' and write a word or two! _


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Thank you for reading!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 19**

_100 days later:_

After being on bed rest for nearly three weeks, Sara kept telling herself that she was well prepared. The halcyon days of the first six months of her pregnancy had not predicted the problems that came during her seventh month. Her ankles and feet swelled to look like fat sausages, her blood pressure went up, and protein appeared in her urine. The symptoms of preeclampsia had not completely abated causing enough apprehension that her physicians had insisted on bed rest and a 24-hour monitoring device.

Sara closed the book she was reading, reached to grip the headboard and attempted to shift her body knowing there was no way she could get comfortable. She needed to go to the bathroom. Sighing, she reached for her phone and sent a short text message to her mother-in-law who was nearby. She was so unstable from weight and dizziness that she no longer got up without assistance. While waiting for Betty Grissom, Sara unclipped the monitor and thought about the new closeness that had developed between her and Grissom's mother.

The two women had maintained a polite but reserved relationship after their first meeting. Sara knew she had not been Betty's choice for a daughter-in-law—until the pregnancy, if truth be told. But they had gradually bonded over several years, not to the point of being best friends but at least they had celebrated special occasions, holidays and birthdays—all because they loved the same man and Gil Grissom was happy.

Pregnancy—and the announcement of twins—had catapulted Betty's approval of Sara in leaps and bounds. And when bed rest had been ordered, Betty came every day while Grissom went to the university. The two women found more in common than their love for the same man. They enjoyed reading the same books. Betty had a large collection of movies and between _Casablanca_ and _12 Angry Men_, they connected. During a debate about best movie of 1962—_Lawrence of Arabia _or_ To Kill A Mockingbird_—one or the other realized their relationship had moved to another level and as intelligent people often find, they had much in common.

As Sara's pregnancy progressed and days passed into weeks, Betty arrived every day, prepared food, helped Sara to the bathroom, and did everything she could to make Sara comfortable, doing so quietly and cheerfully.

When Betty arrived in the bedroom, Sara did not even have to sign her need to go to the bathroom. Betty offered her arm as Sara pushed off the bed, walked with her to the bathroom, and then retreated for Sara's privacy. As Sara finished on the toilet, she felt an unusually strong cramp as either a small foot or an elbow jabbed her lower abdomen; then she realized it wasn't a normal nudge. The second contraction came as a sudden excruciating spasm twisting through her pelvis, circling from the bottom of her spine around to her belly, strong enough to nearly knock her over.

Immediately, as a gush of fluid ran down her leg, she knew she would not meet her scheduled delivery date. She'd made a mess on the floor and reached for a towel, in the process knocking her cell phone across the floor. That's when she realized she could not bend over and retrieve her phone so she threw the towel on the floor, and managed to use her foot to mop up some of the puddle.

Finally, when she reached the door, she found her mother-in-law waiting a few steps away and a quick look had Betty Grissom texting her son.

Grissom, knowing he would soon be on leave, was working with the adjunct faculty member who would take his classes. They had spent hours on the semester schedule, required assignments for the courses, lab experiments, and other minutiae involved when turning courses over to another for several weeks. When his phone chirped, he glanced at it, then instantly read the text.

"I got to go! Sara's ready," he said, reading his mother's message again.

On his way to the parking lot, he sent several messages—Catherine would meet them at the hospital; other than his mother, she was the only friend who had Sara's permission to enter the room during labor and delivery.

Grissom chuckled, his thoughts on his wife, as he drove across town. Surprising him, Sara had definite ideas about delivery and caring for the babies; she had been adamant that her labor and delivery would not become a sideshow for visitors. She had also been unwavering in her ideas for caring for two small babies—two bassinets had been placed in the corner of their bedroom along with a small chest for baby items. When everyone—his mother, Catherine, the women at the lab, had insisted on giving a party—a baby shower—Sara agreed to a small event on her own terms. Even Catherine had gone along with Sara's stipulations of no games, no balloons, and only useful baby items.

As a result, they had diapers, baby clothes, two high chairs, a stroller, and only a few things he had no idea what they were used for stacked in the former office. Which was now painted a shade of orange—Sara had called it another name but to his eyes, the room was orange. Bright, she said, as he had hung a large picture of a playful monkey on the wall. They had made progress on the room until her blood pressure went up, her feet swelled, and she admitted to headaches.

The collection of specialists immediately had given her two options—hospitalization or bed rest at home taking a host of medications for as long as possible so the babies' lungs could continue to develop. With whispered prayers, Sara had taken to her bed and made it through twenty days.

When he opened the front door, he found his mother. Quickly, her hands flew as she signed; her brows were knitted together in a frown, her face troubled. Grissom followed her into the bedroom where he found Sara sitting on the bed.

Sara turned to look at him, tears were running down her pale face. Her chin began to tremble. "Oh, Gil—I'm so scared," she said in a voice that was barely audible. "Two—two babies coming before they are fully developed—Oh Gil…"

Grissom was certain this was another hormonal moment; she knew the babies would get the best care available. They had spent hours discussing the probability of premature delivery and she knew she had done everything possible to delay delivery. He sat down beside her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nodded to his mother who left the room.

"They are going to be fine. We've got to get you to the hospital first. I've called the doctor and she's meeting us there." He cradled her face with his palm, wiped her tears with his thumb, and kissed her several times. "We're going to be fine—all of us. Now, let's get you to the car."

Sara raised her face. She said, "I don't know if I can move—Betty helped me change clothes. I made a mess in the bathroom." More tears brimmed her eyes as she grimaced; another pain shot through her body. She grabbed her back with one hand and then quickly clamped the other hand over her mouth.

Grissom jumped up and quickly returned with a towel. In minutes, he had Sara's bag in the car, returned to the bedroom and gathered Sara into his arms as best he could.

"Come along, dear wife. It's time we became parents—new excitement—actually lots of excitement!" Reaching for her shoes, he placed them on her feet and then helped her to stand.

"I'm so big, Gil. I can't see my feet. Your arms can't even go around me! I must look awful."

Bending toward her, Grissom said, "You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Sara. Can you make it to the car?"

"Yes, if you help me," Sara murmured. "Let me take the towel—I feel nauseated every time a pain comes."

Together, the two walked to the car. Betty would follow later.

"Don't worry—everything is going to be fine," Grissom said to the two worried women, trying to sound optimistic.

At the hospital, after an ultrasound, after getting hooked up to monitors for babies and for Sara, as physicians and nurses seemed to rotate in and out of Sara's room through a revolving door, the calm expertise of the staff helped to alleviate some of Sara's apprehension. At one time, she counted three physicians and four nurses and there was much debate about Sara's desire to avoid a caesarian section. The oldest physician, who was the primary, agreed with Sara—both babies were in excellent positions for a normal birth except the physician wanted an epidural in place in case of emergency.

Within an hour of receiving the epidural, a relative pain-free process began and a surprised Sara was carrying on conversations with Catherine and one of the physicians when more nurses and doctors arrived.

"A NICU team for each one," the physician explained. "It's time to get things rolling."

Catherine and Betty left the room, telling Sara and Grissom there was a cheering squad waiting down the hall—Nick, Greg, Jim, D.B.'s wife and Doc Robbins and his wife.

Grissom, dressed in green scrubs, sitting near Sara's head, asked, "Don't these guys work any longer?"

For Sara, labor was odd—she was following instructions, breathing, pushing—as an almost out-of-body experience with everyone else doing the actual work of delivery. She knew her body was exerting tremendous effort but the pain consisted of pressure. After a while, with several strong pushes, what she felt as incredible strength, the first baby was delivered, held up and the tiny human stretched arms and legs as if to say "More room at last!"

Everyone in the room laughed, breathing relief as the baby gasped for air and turned a beautiful shade of pink before giving a wail.

"A boy!" The doctor announced as if anyone needed confirmation.

Grissom caused more laughter when he said, "Look, Sara! He looks just like me!" He reddened before he added, "His chin—his chin!" Grissom pointed to the cleft in his chin and everyone laughed again.

In a flurry of actions, the infant was placed against Sara's chest for a few minutes; she knew she was crying and looking up at her husband, she realized tears were running down his cheeks. Someone was using a phone to take photos and it took a few seconds for Sara to realize Catherine had returned, her clothes covered in a disposable gown, her hair covered in a bright blue cap, and tears running down her face.

The first NICU team took the baby and Sara pushed again and within minutes, baby girl Grissom arrived with an instant piercing cry. Again, the baby was placed on Sara's chest for a few minutes, giving the parents time to notice blue eyes and dark wispy curls on her head before handing her over to the second team.

"Two perfect babies!" This announcement came from the IVF specialist who had arrived in the delivery room a few minutes before baby boy Grissom had entered the world.

There was a murmur of agreement as nurses and physicians went about caring for two tiny infants and one exhausted mother. Grissom dropped his head next to her and tried to breathe.

"I can't believe its over," he said.

One of the nurses came over with a baby, easily identified by the tiny cleft in his chin, wrapped tightly in a blanket. She laughed as she placed the infant in his arms, saying "Oh, Dr. Grissom—it's not over, it's just beginning!"

Catherine took more photos as the new mom and dad held both babies; Sara was certain she heard cheers coming from outside the delivery room as the photos were seen.

By the time Sara was moved to another room, complete with queen sized bed so new parents could sleep together, she felt as if she was almost back to normal. Her blood pressure had returned to normal, her ankles were no longer the size of sausages, and the dull headache she'd had for a month disappeared. Sara actually felt wonderful.

As if she had been given a shot of adrenaline, she could not—did not want—to sleep. Friends came in, perceptive enough to know their visits should be short—or perhaps because Grissom was stretched out on one side of the bed attempting to sleep.

After a while, a nurse arrived, announcing that both babies, checked by specialists, were doing great and asking if Sara wanted them brought into the room. Sara, her breasts already taunt and full, wanted them immediately. Visitors left; Sara signed for Betty to stay in the room. Grissom stirred and woke up, sitting up in bed.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Sara leaned over and kissed him, saying, "Amazingly, I feel great. The babies are coming!"

But instead of babies, a physician, identifying himself as one of the neonatologist from NICU, entered the room. Immediately, a slight smile appeared on his face as he saw three concerned faces.

"Everything is fine—both babies are doing extremely well." He approached the bed and introduced himself by name. "The nurses will bring them in a few minutes." He went on to report various testing and monitoring and ended by saying, "There is no reason to keep them in NICU—they are small and we're going to keep a monitor on each for a while—maybe send them home with monitors—but I think you can expect to take them home in a few days."

Relief was palpable. Grissom covered Sara's hand with his; Betty placed an arm around her shoulder.

"And the nurses tell me you are going to nurse twins," the solemn face of the physician softened, "my wife did it with our twins." He looked at Grissom, saying, "Your job is to provide food and drinks—lots of both!" He left as quickly as he had come.

A few minutes later, a slight commotion outside the door had Grissom up and opening the door as two nurses pushed two plastic hospital bassinets into the room. Their eyes on the babies, neither Sara nor Grissom noticed the nurses until one made a quiet laugh.

It was a sound Grissom recognized immediately. "Brianna!"

The young woman nodded, stifling her laughter, as she quickly introduced the 'real nurse' and explained that she had pulled in all favors and made promises to professors and fellow students so she could be in the nursery when the Grissom babies arrived.

"I've worked on this for weeks!" She whispered as she lifted a tiny infant into her arms and waited until Sara was comfortable. "Your daughter!" Skillfully, she placed the baby in her mother's arms.

"Anna," Sara whispered as she cradled the small bundle against her chest.

The nurse motioned for Grissom to scoot over and Brianna placed the little boy in his arms.

"He's beautiful," he whispered. His finger touched a downy tuff of flaxen hair on a perfect little skull. The baby's eyes opened to reveal vivid blue eyes that would never change color. Grissom smiled and looked up to find four women closely watching. "I think he's perfect," he said.

Brianna asked, "Have you decided on a name for him?"

Smiling, Grissom looked at Sara and then his mother; purposefully, they had kept their name choices a secret. Slowly, he said, "We are naming him after my dad—Michael Gilbert Grissom."

_A/N: We've enjoyed writing this story-one more chapter to completion. We appreciate hearing from faithful readers-its the reward for writing. So if you have not sent us a comment, please do! And the final/last chapter of this story should be one for very special readers-you know who you are! Just for you! Thanks so much! _


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Final chapter-it is a long one. Enjoy! Then, do us a favor-leave a comment! Your encouragement is what gets us thinking about the next story!_

**Old Sins Have Long Shadows**

**Chapter 20**

_15 months later: _

The door bell rang twice before Sara found her way around scattered toys and, in the process, discovered her missing shoe on the foot of her daughter; she hurried across the living room as her young son ran ahead of her, tumbling to the floor in front of her before she reached the door. Both toddlers were babbling a constant string of sounds.

Swinging the door open, Sara welcomed their visitor, saying, "You are early!" and then, as she turned toward the room, added, "and, as usual, things are a mess!"

A white-to-blonde haired toddler was trying to stand on his head, giggling as his curly hair spilled around his head. His dark-haired sister was attempting to sit on a ball while wearing a high-heeled shoe; both children resembled their father more than their mother. As their visitor was welcomed, two pairs of sparkling blue eyes brightened with squeals and little legs scrambled as they hurried toward the two women.

Brianna Collins strode into the room, laughing and leaning over to pick up young Michael. "How's my best boy?" She handled the boy with gentle familiarity and his response was one of equal ease. "I knew you would need time to dress! I'll take them outside. Come with us, Anna. Mommy needs to get dressed!"

Sara's thanks came with a hug. She said, "You are a mind-reader!" She scooped up her daughter, removed the shoe from the small foot, and followed Brianna into the back yard.

A patio and backyard that had once been a place of peaceful existence for plants and birds had been transformed into a play place for two small children. Brightly colored push toys, ride-on giraffes, balls, two swings, and a sandbox on the patio had made a different kind of yard.

The children scrambled toward the toys, forgetting either adult, in their excitement.

"Thank you so much, Brianna."

The young woman smiled, saying "I love keeping them, Sara! You don't call often enough! Adam is coming later with pizza—we'll get them bathed and in bed." She pointed toward the house. "Go! Get ready! I can't wait to see your dress!"

Brianna Collins had become the chief baby-sitter for the Grissom twins by accident or design—Sara thought by accident. But her husband had developed a plan. Two weeks after the births of Anna and Michael, he had suddenly thought of Brianna, a nursing student, as the perfect person to call. Sara did not want to leave the babies with anyone but, as he and Brianna planned, the young woman dropped by the house late one afternoon and insisted she would babysit while the new parents made a quick trip to get milkshakes.

A week later, Brianna returned with Adam, and the two showed Sara they could manage the two babies while Grissom took her to dinner. Less than an hour later, the parents returned but Sara's trust grew over several months as Brianna demonstrated skills and a blossoming talent with the growing infants.

Returning to the bedroom, Sara was relieved to have Brianna as her reliable sitter—everyone else would be at the wedding. She picked up her dress, a cobalt blue with one shirred shoulder strap secured at the center of her chest with a large flashy pin.

"Brianna came early," she called to her husband.

Gil Grissom appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. "Thank goodness—help me with this darn tie."

Sara wrapped arms around his shoulders and in one minute had the tie in place. "You look very handsome." It was not often they dressed in formal attire for any occasion.

Fifteen minutes later, Sara stood in front of the mirror and examined her dress, running her palm over the shirred skirt. When she caught Grissom watching her, she laughed, saying "I feel like I'm going to a royal wedding." She tugged on the ostentatious pin.

Grissom grinned. "You are—as near as it gets in Vegas." He checked his watch. "We'll be in time for the cocktail party—or whatever it's called." He raised a finger, saying "I do have one more thing." He disappeared into the closet, quickly returning with a small box.

"A gift from my mother." Flipping the top so she could see inside, he said, "She said this one would be better than the one that came on the dress."

Inside the box was a delicate, exquisitely carved shimmering cameo, a woman in profile, on a dark blue enamel background, surrounded by small pearls and a band of gold. Sara lifted it out of the box.

"It's called _a Cameo Habille_—a jewel within a jewel. My mother got it years ago at an estate sale. It may not be a diamond crown for a royal wedding but it suits you." Grissom took it from her fingers, slipped the one from her dress, and deftly pinned the cameo in its place. His hand patted the cameo and then cupped her breast. Smiling suggestively, he whispered, "I love your body."

Sara giggled, "Maybe tonight," her eyebrows lifted. "Unless you pass out on the way home—then I'll leave you in the car to sleep."

He made an evocative expression, softly laughed, and said, "I think I remember a time when we would have sex for hours—and sleep and make love again! Without worrying about those little noises on the baby monitor!"

Laying her head on his shoulder, Sara said, "We are so fortunate, Gil. Two perfect little babies." She kissed him, on the mouth, quickly darting her tongue between his lips as he quickly responded.

When they broke the kiss, Grissom said, "And now it is time to leave—we need to say goodbye." He sighed, "That may take ten minutes or an hour."

It took a few minutes. After a brief disruption in play—the two toddlers preferred to dig in the sand box and barely waved a goodbye—Grissom and Sara headed to one of the newest casinos on the Strip for the wedding of Lindsay Willows and Sean Oliver.

"Adam is coming later," Sara said to Grissom. "Do you think she'll ever agree to marry him?"

Grissom chuckled, "I think she will—Brianna wants to be independent for a while." Softly, he chuckled again as he took her hand. "Sort of reminds me of someone I knew once—didn't want to be 'smothered' or some such nonsense."

Sara threw her head back and laughed. "Did I really say that?"

When they pulled into the courtyard entrance to the Eclipse Casino, vehicles were already lined up; dozens of young men rushed to cars to assist the elegantly dressed guests and usher them into the arched entrance. Stone statuary, verdant sculpted plants, and blossoming flowers lined the portico and curved into a luxuriant formal garden set on several levels giving the effect of private retreat.

As they entered the building, Grissom said, "It really is breathtaking." He laughed, "Should I expect anything but spectacular from Catherine?"

The grand staircase that curved upward to a grand ballroom rivaled any in Vegas—any in the world, was Sara's guess. Noisy, excited chatter resounded off mirrored walls as she swept her gaze across the room. Enormous sprays of white flowers—roses, she thought, from the fragrance—were arranged around the area.

Insane, Sara thought, as she watched an army of young servers carrying trays of canapés and bubbling wine among hundreds of guests—all wearing formal evening attire. She knew she had never been in a room with so much beaded silk and so many starched white shirts. She also knew that among the guests were those who's economic muscle and back-room connections ran Las Vegas—more so than the bevy of politicians, also in attendance, who were there to honor the newlyweds.

Then she saw Catherine, standing near the staircase, shaking hands with guests. Sara did not know how the bride could be more beautiful than the mother-of-the-bride. Catherine's pale lavender dress sparkled under twinkling chandeliers; her hair was pulled back with a hair ornament that flashed and flickered producing a light of its own.

Jim Brass and Nick Stokes were the first to see them, both asking what had taken so long for them to arrive and after a party like this, what would come later—Sara whispered her knowledge of the wedding event.

"Over two hundred guests are coming to the wedding." She smiled as she said, "And all are invited to the dinner and dance afterwards." She pointed upstairs. "Dinner up there—wedding here. All the flowers are real!" She pointed to the open doors across the room. "And the bride will make her entrance coming down the stairs." In a quieter voice, she continued, "The wedding ceremony is a simple affair—the real money is spent for the reception!"

Nick's eyes rolled.

Brass chuckled, saying, "Can't think of a better way to spend old Sam's money." He lifted an amber colored beverage skyward.

More friends gathered and, gradually, they moved toward Catherine who said, "I've got to go upstairs to change my dress—thirty minutes until the ceremony!" She kissed Sara's cheek and turned to Grissom. "It's you who started this, Gil." She laughed, "And I like my soon-to-be-son-in-law!"

Later, as guests were seated in gold painted chairs in the luxurious ballroom—not to be mistaken for the upstairs grand ballroom—music filled the room and quieted the crowd. Sara gazed at the ceiling which was painted to resemble an evening sky. Around the room, flowers seemed to climb brick walls—all creamy white to a pale yellow color. More arrangements of flowers decorated a raised platform and climbed around a trellis. Roses, white and yellow, marked an aisle separating rows of chairs. A wall, built to move, silently disappeared so the guests could see the grand staircase.

Shortly, a procession of young men, dressed in the latest wedding fashion, entered the room from several directions. They were followed by young women, dressed in gowns of varying shades of gray with a wide ribbon of yellow tied at their waist. The girls, carrying bouquets of white and yellow flowers, slowly made their way down the stairs and to the front.

Nervously, Nick twisted in his chair; Sara thought he was looking for Mandy who was seated two rows behind them. Greg and Morgan had come together; Sara wasn't sure if it was an official date or just as friends. Gently, Grissom took Sara's hand and smiled as the procession of young women seemed to go on forever. When the last attendant reached the front and found her place on the steps, the music changed to the familiar wedding march.

Guests turned, eyes lifted. A muffled intake of air seemed to wave from the last row of chairs seconds before the rest of the guests got their first glimpse of the bride and her mother.

The two women, from a distance, could be sisters, Sara thought. Catherine had changed her dress—now she wore a floral pattern-fitted dress with a flowing shawl-an elegant dress beautiful in its simplicity. But few noticed Catherine because at her side Lindsey was a radiant bride.

The image of a princess, Sara thought, as the bride and her mother stepped carefully down each rung of the staircase. Sara had seen the bride's dress hanging on a dressmaker's mannequin but the intricate lace design had only been implied. She also knew it was a vintage-style designer dress, chosen for the dramatic silhouette on Lindsay's slim figure as she entered the ballroom. A long train and veil swept behind her—more lace, tulle, and satin—as the bride and Catherine walked slowly up the aisle.

The bride's bouquet was a cascade of white roses and orchids laced with feathery green that reached Lindsay's knees. A collective intake of air indicated everyone in the room was awed by the bride's appearance.

Grissom leaned over to Sara's ear, whispering, "Please tell me Anna won't have a wedding like this!"

Sara squeezed his hand. "I don't even want to think about it, dear."

All too quickly, the customary marriage ceremony was performed; the bride and groom smiled, kissed, and walked down the aisle, stopping several times to acknowledge certain guests. When Lindsey stopped at the end of the row of chairs where Sara and Grissom sat, she waved her hand for Grissom to step closer.

Everyone around them laughed as she placed a kiss on Grissom's cheek and hugged him with both arms. Sean shook his hand. Lindsay's recognition was done in the spirit of recognizing one of the few guests who had known her most of her life. The couple continued down the aisle as the guests applauded. And then the procession of attendants followed the newlyweds.

The following hours were filled with magnificence—no other word would describe it in Sara's thoughts. The grand ballroom had been decorated with so much greenery and flowers it could have been Butchard Gardens without the waterfalls—but there were fountains. Huge lighted globes hung from the ceiling that had been painted to have the appearance of a botanical conservatory. People roamed around openly admiring the decorations, finding friends and acquaintances—and divided as they often do at such events. Young friends stayed near the couple, friends of parents divided into their own groups, and took liberties at rearranging seating arrangements.

Dinner was extravagant, generous, and rich in taste. Food and champagne flowed for what seemed like hours until the band struck a playful song and the bride, groom, and their attendants bounded to the dance floor and performed a beautiful choreographed dance before pulling others onto the floor to join them. For several fun and danced filled hours, the wedding was celebrated with a party—and Sara danced—with Grissom, with Jim and Nick, with Greg and D.B.—and finally with the groom as Grissom danced with Lindsay.

Sometime after midnight, Sara and Grissom unlocked their front door to find another couple—Brianna and Adam—watching an old movie. Immediately, Brianna jumped up, a broad smile across her face.

"We have an announcement to make!" She held up her left hand.

There was no way to miss the engagement ring on her finger.

"You finally said yes!" Sara said as she took Brianna's hand. "When? Tonight? It's a beautiful ring!"

Brianna laughed, nodding her head. "Right here in your living room where he asked me months ago!"

Grissom said, "Took long enough—now how long before we have a wedding?"

Adam answered, "Not too long—I hope! We have a place to live—I have enough vacation time for a honeymoon to Italy, and" he glanced at Brianna, "I don't want her to back out!"

There was a quiet celebration before the young couple left making promises to invite Sara and Grissom to a very small wedding. "Probably at a wedding chapel on the Strip," Brianna said with a laugh. "I know it's corny, but we think it would be fun!"

A few minutes later, as Grissom and Sara stood over their daughter's crib, Grissom said, "I hope to live long enough to see Anna," he paused, seeming to search for words, "grow into a young lady—like Lindsay and Brianna."

Nodding, Sara tucked a blanket around the toddler; turning, she did the same to Michael.

When she looked at her children, her heart filled in an unexpected way. Many times she had wondered how a mother became a mother—and the day they were born, she learned—space opened in her heart and brain that she had not known was there.

The children were beautiful, not only to her but to strangers who saw them in the park or at a store. Michael's expression was always one of happiness, a smile always on his face. He seemed to have an inherent knowledge about situations and people that was rarely wrong. His likeness to his father was amazing—the cleft in his chin was obvious, but the child had the same blue eyes, the same graceful hands, even the same toes of his father. No one mistook the parentage of little Michael.

Quietly, she moved back to Anna's crib where her husband stood, his finger twirling an unruly curl. He said, "She's so beautiful."

"Yes," Sara agreed as they watched their daughter sleep.

Anna was a curious combination of quietness and thoughtful expression; she smiled but not as quickly as her brother. Her light blue eyes, not quite her father's but a throwback to some unknown ancestor, were intelligent with none of the wandering attention span of her brother—or other children her age. She was already stringing words together that amazed her parents. Her dark curly hair was the only noticeable concession to Sara's genes, yet Grissom believed much of her personality and intelligence came from Sara. A turn of her mouth, a hint of a smile, a glimpse from underneath long dark lashes—Grissom knew Anna's mother had those same adorable traits.

Grissom kissed the back of his wife's neck. "Bed, dear."

Sara wrapped her arm around his waist. As they left the bedroom, she whispered, "And you didn't go to sleep in the car!" Her fingers tickled his ribs.

Grissom's arm had slipped around her shoulders but as they left the nursery, his hand went to her hair where his finger lifted several loose curls that had fallen from her swept up twist. By the time they had reached their bedroom doorway, Sara's shoes were off, his tie was loosened, and the twist no longer held her hair.

Smiling, he stroked her cheek; she closed her eyes. He had no trouble finding the zipper to her dress and slowly worked it downward, then with very deliberate motions, pulled the fabric from her shoulder.

Her breathing quickened as he softly pressed his lips to her neck. When she swallowed, the sensation was unexpectedly erotic and Grissom felt a heaviness in his lower body as he grew hard. He continued to kiss her neck, whisper-soft, his lips barely grazing her soft skin. Taking her face between his hands, he touched lips to her chin, and continued moving along the graceful curve of bone beneath smooth skin. When he reached her ear, Sara held her breath as his tongue and teeth nipped at her lobe, and he heard her sigh.

Slowly, sensual, they danced to an unheard melody across the floor to their bed, clothes unhurriedly leaving their bodies. Instinct drove them; anticipation consumed them. More than pleasure pushed their bodies onto the bed—it was the power and energy of unbounded potential.

His mouth hovered over hers; their eyes met and they smiled. In the other's eyes, each recognized the same thought, the same desire, the same driving need. He lowered his mouth on hers and the moment before contact, she closed her eyes and so did he.

Her lips were warm beneath his; her hands roamed over his shoulders and pressed him closer. The tip of his tongue touched her lips as a slight murmur of satisfaction opened hers.

Grissom settled against her, one leg resting between hers, his erection hard against her stomach. She pressed her hands to his back to urge him closer. Breaking the kiss, he shifted downward, lowering his mouth to the hollow of her neck. Sara shivered as he made a trail of kisses along the delicate ridge of her collarbone and back again. Gently, he slowly kissed a trail down the center of her chest, breathing in the sweetness of her skin. He felt her breast against the side of his face, felt her nipple stiffen as his rough cheek grazed it. Arousal flared and, as he felt her hands in his hair, he heard a low groan, and realized it had come from him.

Almost overwhelmed with sensation created by her husband, Sara closed her eyes as her fingers threaded into his hair, feeling the heat of his breath against her skin. The tiredness she had felt had evaporated as quickly as nighttime fog burned off by the hot morning sun. The scratchy pressure of his cheek, she knew, was deliberate. He nuzzled her, gently rubbing his prickly jaw on her tender flesh. The friction against her nipple sent sparks of pleasure coursing throughout her body, coming together like streaks of lightning to a white-hot target at the apex of her legs.

When his lips brushed her nipple, she gasped, impatient for more. Her legs lifted; she wiggled, managing to fit him between hers. She felt the heat from his erection. For a timeless, dreamy interlude, they lay together while Grissom caressed one nipple between his fingers, working his tongue and lips around the other. Sara spiraled slowly upward into a breathless arousal; dampness grew between her legs.

When she moved her hips, he answered her unspoken need by smoothing his hand downward to the warm dampness between her legs. With his first gently caress, she moaned, clutching his hair as he explored—sweet, unbearable torment, she thought.

"Gil, Gil…"

He raised sparkling eyes to meet her soft brown ones. For a few moments they looked at each other before her eyes cast down to look at him. As he lifted slightly away from her body, she could see his erection rising from a glistening nest of hair, gleaming silkily in the lamp light. Her hand ran down his chest to the dense tangle between his legs. He sucked in a breath when her hand closed around his penis and drew her fingers up its taut length. At its tip, she found dampness, a small drop of fluid, and smoothed it with her thumb.

"Sara," he growled as she slid her fingers down and up again. He grabbed her hand and kissed her with a hard, searing kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth in a rhythmic sexual way; he grabbed her hips and thrust hard against her belly.

Sara literally pulled the sheet off the bed as she hoarsely said, "Now, Gil, now!"

Managing to chuckle, he lowered himself between her legs. She was ready, throbbing with need. He nudged her wet opening.

"Now!"

He paused again, the tip of his erection inched into her body. "I love you, Sara."

Softly, she giggled. "Oh, I love you, Gil." She laughed again as he pressed into her body, a wonderfully delicious intrusion of pleasure. "I love you," she said again as he gently thrust deeper. "I love you."

She threw her head back, her eyes closed in ecstasy, smiling, as he pushed slowly, again and again, easing into her as she stretched around his unyielding thickness.

Seeing his wife as her breaths became frantic little pants, delirious with pleasure as her climax approached, he withdrew, thrust deeply as they groaned in unison—incredible magic, intimate memories flooded from their past.

And then Sara cried out in a feminine cry of fulfillment—her body seemed to convulse, rocking beneath him. From deep inside her, a succession of spasms gripped him like a slippery hand stroking, pulling, squeezing. His rhythmic movements pumped him from within, undid him as his body arched, plunged deeply inside her. Pleasure gathered and erupted with astonishing force.

For a few minutes, he could not think, see or hear. His blood seemed to cease to flow, his lungs ceased to breathe. He came with luxurious intensity, as if his body was filling Sara with love. He opened his eyes to find his head buried against Sara's neck.

When she noticed his eyes were open, she grinned and, as he shifted, she stretched like a cat and pressed her hands on his butt. "I love you—love feeling you inside me." She wrapped her legs around his back. For a while, they remained entwined, leisurely kissing, warming with each other's breaths, caressing places of shared intimacy.

Slipping an arm around her, Grissom lifted and rocked back bringing her with him—still intimately connected—as he sat up, shifting his legs so his thighs pressed against her hips. Sara laughed saying, "We've not done this in—in forever!"

Gripping her hips, he pushed into her. "I want to feel you come again," he whispered. His erection had waned but he was still inside her, and the friction of his thrusts against her slippery-wet sex was incredibly stimulating. Closing her eyes, she held his shoulders and arched her back, matching his vigorous strokes.

His lips touched her chest; he rasped, "You are beautiful!"

They continued with increasing urgency as he became fully erect again. Throwing back his head, he gripped her hips. Sara watched from above him as his expression changed to one of excruciating pleasure.

"Oh…oh…Sara" he shuddered with a growl.

Sara felt his explosion and then her own climax was on her as she exploded into a senseless orgasm. A few seconds later, he eased her down to the bed, breathless and sweaty, his arms gathering her to him as he placed kisses over her face.

As minutes passed, wrapped in a sated peace, they fell into an identical rhythm of breathing, slow and easy, his head on her shoulder, her leg wrapped over his. Her hand made a circular caress on his relaxed back. He sighed, and carefully, turned them over so Sara's head rested on his shoulder, unconsciously giving her the option of staying close or moving away. She remained languid and undemanding; her palm resumed its dreamy caress on his chest until their world silenced in sleep.

A few weeks later, Sara and Grissom, each holding a wiggly child, stood in a pergola on the university campus with fifteen others. Baskets of petunias and impatiens hung from the eaves. There was a soft radiance to the morning; a slight breeze still cooled the air.

Brianna and Adam stood before a notary—a history professor in real life—who performed a short and simple marriage ceremony that took less than five minutes. A friend passed small bottles of bubbles to everyone so the newlyweds could be 'showered' with congratulations as they left the steps of the pergola—heading directly to the airport for a flight to Rome and two weeks of a quickly planned honeymoon.

Anna and Michael shrieked with excitement and chased iridescent and shimmering bubbles drifting in the air until all had floated away or popped on blades of grass.

Sara and Grissom slowly walked across campus, watching two toddlers explore wet grass where a bubble had been a few minutes before; suddenly, a small bug brought delighted squeals.

"Did we really create these two?" Grissom asked as interest in the bug dissolved to a good-natured tussle between the two children.

Sara laughed, "All evidence points that way."

_A/N: Thank you for reading. Thank you to those readers who review. If you haven't don't so, please leave a word or two, a comment as a way to encourage writers to keep GSR alive! _


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